


The Origin of Love

by sinkingshipper



Series: This is Your Song [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Domestic, F/M, Found Family, Idiots in Love, M/M, Multi, Some Fluff, Some angst, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:00:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 54,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25028917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinkingshipper/pseuds/sinkingshipper
Summary: The ups and downs of the first three years of Enjolras and Grantaire's relationship, while Enjolras is finishing school and R is trying to make it big with his band, Barricade. Starting in the Spring of 2018 and finishing in the Winter of 2021, the couple and their friends fall in and out of love, perform concerts, plan protests, move in, move out, and take on the world together. Each chapter inspired by a song!
Relationships: Bahorel/Feuilly (Les Misérables), Combeferre/Éponine Thénardier, Cosette Fauchelevent/Marius Pontmercy, Courfeyrac/Jean Prouvaire, Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Joly/Bossuet Laigle/Musichetta, Éponine Thénardier/Marius Pontmercy (One-sided)
Series: This is Your Song [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1812490
Comments: 50
Kudos: 26





	1. Gorgeous

**Author's Note:**

> When you write a fic in one month and then spend eight months editing/getting around to posting. Also, every chapter was inspired by a song on my Origin of Love [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/4sbnzJlJ6p1QSY0Glp7mfF), so check that out for hints on where the story is going! Title comes from "Origin of Love" by Mika.

“Ocean blue eyes/ looking in mine/  
I feel like I might/ sink and drown and die” 

May 2018

“I’m sorry, Courf, I wish I could go. But it’s finals- I just don’t have the time,” Enjolras apologized, spinning his desk chair from the computer to face his friend.

“Please?” Courfeyrac pleaded, literally clasping his hands together like a prayer. “Everyone is going, and it wouldn’t be the same without you. And I need you to meet him!”

“You’ve only been dating for two weeks,” Enjolras said, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sure I’ll meet him later on, if this is serious.”

At that, Courfeyrac sighed dramatically and flopped onto Enjolras’s bed, pushing textbooks and notes off of it as he did so.

“I need those-“ Enjolras began, but Courfeyrac ignored his protests.

“I have no idea if it’s serious! I change from my normal suave self into a literal disaster in his presence! I’m basically Marius!”

“No, you’re not,” Combeferre said, joining his roommates in Enjolras’s room. “Marius was never suave to begin with. And I’m sure Jehan will be more than willing to talk about your relationship status.”

This only caused Courfeyrac to groan loudly.

“And Enj, the concert isn’t even until nine,” Combeferre added, turning his attention to the other friend. “You’d be back here by one at the latest. Which gives you-“ he pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time; “-five hours to wrap up your paper and get to the club.”

Enjolras sighed and glanced despairingly at the mess of notes that lay in a heap on the floor. “I don’t know…”

“And isn’t Eponine in the band, too?” Combeferre asked Courfeyrac. “I’m sure she’d appreciate our support, considering the amount of times she’s let us stay in the café after she was supposed to close it.”

“That’s true!” Courfeyrac said, sitting up. “And I think a guy Joly and Bossuet went to high school with or something. Enjolras, you cannot spend a Friday night trapped in your room with your schoolwork! You simply need to be with your most beloved friends and soon-to-be friends.”

“Today’s Thursday, Courf.”

Nonetheless, five hours later Enjolras found himself surrounded tightly by a group of his friends in the dingy club. Joly, Bossuet, Musichetta and Bahorel were chatting to the right of him, beers and waters clutched in their hands. Combeferre and Marius stood to the left, looking at something on Ferre’s phone.

Enjolras put his hands in his pockets and took in the dark walls covered in posters of bands he’d never heard of, large bar to the left of the stage, and sound guys carefully setting up for the night.

“Hey, Feuilly!” He called to one of the black-clad technicians, who was tuning a guitar onstage. Feuilly gave him a smile and a wave, and Enjolras knew he’d meet up with the gang after the show.

Behind him, Courfeyrac nervously tugged at his hair and clothes as Cosette tried to calm him.

“I’m sure he wants to be exclusive with you, honey. Just try and relax,” Cosette soothed, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“He’s just the coolest person I’ve ever met. I don’t think I can compare,” Courfeyrac said, staring down at the sticky club floor.

Hearing that, Enjolras had to turn around. “Bullshit,” he said, causing Courfeyrac’s eyebrows to shoot up and Cosette to smother a smile. “There is literally no one on this planet that can compare to you, Courf. Who else can wear glitter on a daily basis without managing to look like a stripper? Not that there’s anything wrong with that!” He added, raising his hands into the air.

“Who else would organize an anti-prom in high school because we weren’t allowed to have boys as dates? Even though no one wanted to date us anyway,” Enjolras added, making Courfeyrac snort.

Cosette wrapped her arms around Courfeyrac’s shoulders. “Listen to your friend, dummy.”

“All I’m saying is, I don’t think it’s possible for Jehan to not love you as much as we do,” Enjolras finished with a smile.

“Thanks, Enj. I-“ Courfeyrac began, but then his words were drowned out by a roar in the crowd as the lights went down. 

Enjolras turned around to face the stage again as Courfeyrac, Cosette, Marius, Joly, Boussuet, Musichetta, Bahorel, and Combeferre made their way closer to the front.

Feedback blared through the tiny club, and suddenly a burst of light hit the stage, revealing the lead singer, keyboardist, bassist, and drummer.

“Hello, Baltimore!” The lead called into the mic, and the crowd replied with a cheer. Based on the earsplitting noises from Courfeyrac, Enjolras assumed this must be Jehan.

“Have we got a show for you tonight,” Jehan grinned. “One, two, three-“

A song started, but Enjolras didn’t take note of it at all. Apparently his friends liked it, for they began dancing and singing along around him. Instead, he looked curiously at the group of people playing in front of him.

Jehan did seem unique, to put it lightly. He wore his pale blonde hair in a long braid that lay over his right shoulder, with a flower crown resting on his head. His sweater was a strange- and honestly rather ugly, in Enjolras’s opinion- mash of purples, reds, blues, and yellows, matched with a pair of blue jeans holy enough to be Charlie Brown’s ghost costume. But his voice was sweet and melodic as a bird’s in the springtime, and it flowed beautifully with his guitar. 

To his right was Eponine, whom Enjolras knew from working at the café where his friends often met. She looked the same as usual in all black, the only difference being the bass that she expertly strummed as if it were second nature. Her eyes scanned the small crowd as if they were looking for someone in particular, but Enjolras couldn’t guess who.

Behind her on the drums was a skinny guy Enjolras didn’t recognize, clad in a top hat, of all things. Something about his smirk put Enjolras on edge, so he turned his attention to the keyboardist instead.

At first, the man didn’t impress him. But the moment Enjolras started looking, he found himself unable to stop. Messy black hair underneath a dark green beanie, some dark scruff on his face, and a black t-shirt and jeans similar to Eponine’s. But even in the shooting lights of the stage Enjolras could make out colorful tattoos that went all the way up the man’s arms. They became even more prominent as he picked up the tempo on the keys with the next song, playing and singing backup vocals for Jehan.

He was so enthralled by the keyboardist, and he didn’t even allow himself to think of why. He just kept staring, a small smile tugging at his mouth.

When lights shown on the crowd, the man caught Enjolras’s eye. He gave him a quick wink, and Enjolras startled. He didn’t frequent the small club scenes often, and so he was more used to large concert halls where it is nearly impossible for the musicians to pick out anyone from the crowd, much less make eye contact with them.

He broke away from his gaze and stared at the ground, before letting out a short breath and bringing his attention back to Jehan, who was singing something about peace and states of being.

When the song ended, the crowd (well, mostly Enjolras’s friends) cheered as exuberantly as if they were seeing Queen with Freddie Mercury. Courfeyrac jumped up and down and yelled, “Wooooo!!” causing Jehan to grin widely.

“Thank you for coming out tonight guys, we really appreciate it,” Jehan said, absentmindedly running his fingers along the strings of his guitar. “Barricade would not be still playing without your endless support.”

“Well, we would, it would just be in Eponine’s apartment,” The keyboardist added with a laugh. “But we’d really rather not get kicked out again.”

“So I’d like to dedicate this next song to anyone who’s feeling the love tonight. I know I am,” Jehan smiled, and Courfeyrac blew him an exaggerated kiss.

“And I’d personally like to dedicate it to the most attractive man I’ve ever seen in my life,” The keyboardist said after taking a swig from his beer. “Blonde guy in the front row, you are stunning, and I kind of hate you for it.” 

At that note, the next song began. Enjolras felt his cheeks turning as bright red as the jacket tied around his waist, and he quickly tilted his gaze back to the ground again. What the hell was wrong with that guy?

Courfeyrac hooted and hit Enjolras on the shoulder playfully, and Bahorel let out a booming laugh.

“It’s true!” Bossuet called, and even with his friends’ teasing Enjolras kept his eyes firmly on the ground, before looking up and keeping his attention locked on Jehan for the remainder of the song. The red blush seemed permanently etched into his cheeks, however, so Enjolras stomped over to the bar and ordered a cup of water, and tried furiously to regain his composure.

When the set finally ended, Enjolras stayed locked in his spot at the bar instead of returning to his friends. The band gave their bows and exited the stage, and the house lights went back up, making the club quickly fill with chatter.

“That was incredible!” Musichetta said, her arms slung around Joly and Bossuet on either side of her. “I’d go see them again even if we didn’t know them personally.”

“When do we get to meet everyone, Courf?” Bossuet called.

“He said they’d come out before the next band came on-“ Courfeyrac began, before being engulfed in a hug from behind from Jehan.

“Thank you for coming! That was our best show in months,” Jehan said, giving Courfeyrac a kiss on the cheek.

Courfeyrac spun around to give him a proper hug. “You guys were amazing! My friends are dying to meet you, and everyone else.”

“Of course!” Jehan waved over his bandmates, and the group of friends made a circle. “So I’m Jehan, and I like your friend Courfeyrac. Our bassist is Eponine, whom you already know, I’m told.”

Eponine stood at Jehan’s side and gave a quick smile. “Hey, everyone. Thanks for coming!”

“’Ponine, that was insane! I had no idea you could play like that!” Marius gushed, and Cosette nodded excitedly from under his arm.

Surprisingly, Eponine’s cheeks began to turn pink. “Yeah, thanks.”

“I remember when we were kids and you said you wanted to be a rockstar, and now here you are!” Marius continued, beaming.

“Not really a rockstar,” Eponine muttered, but she was cut off by the drummer sticking his hand out to the group.

“Monparnasse. Nice to meet you all,” he said shortly, before leaving as quickly as he came.

“What’s his deal?” Bahorel asked, watching him trail off with a frown.

“He’s probably just jealous I’m here with Courf,” Jehan shrugged.

“Why, does he like you, or something?” Courfeyrac laughed.

“No, we just used to date. He’ll get over it.”

“Oh! You- wait, what?” Courfeyrac said, turning his head sharply back and forth between Jehan and the departing Montparnasse.

“Yeah. It was a few years ago. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a-“

Feeling like he should diffuse the situation, Combeferre stepped in. “Where’s your keyboardist? I’m dying to see his introduction to Enjolras.”

“Grantaire? Probably at the bar. I’ll grab him,” Eponine said, turning around to look for her friend.

But then, she noticed that not only was he at the bar, he was already making his own introductions.

“Oh, lord,” She said under her breath.

Combeferre turned to see where she was looking, and let out a sigh himself. “If you knew anything about Enjolras, you’d know that this is not going to work out well.”

“If you knew anything about Grantaire, you’d know that none of his interactions work out well,” She retorted. “And I’m his best friend, so I’m allowed to say that.”

“What do you mean?” Combeferre asked. “As Enjolras’s best friend, I have to know.”

“Grantaire likes to antagonize people. Particularly people he likes.”

“Oh, god,” Combeferre said. “Do you want to fix this?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Combeferre and Eponine left their friends to where Enjolras and Grantaire stood at the side of the bar, arguing.

“Look, I’m sorry if I embarrassed you-“

“You can’t say that kind of stuff to a stranger! It’s practically harassment!” Enjolras huffed, crossing his arms.

“Oh, please. I was giving you a compliment. Most people would love to hear that they look like the equivalent of a Greek God,” Grantaire said, seemingly enjoying the interaction based on the smug grin on his face.

“Well, I’m not most people,” Enjolras snapped.

“Clearly not, Apollo.”

“My name is Enjolras.” The reply fell out of his mouth so quickly that for a moment, Enjolras seemed surprised.

“Pleasure to meet you. I’m Grantaire, or R to my friends.” Grantaire held out his hand that wasn’t holding a drink.

Cautiously, Enjolras shook it.

“And I really didn’t mean to embarrass you. Well, maybe a little. I just thought you were checking me out, so I figured I’d return the favor.”

“Wha- I was not!” Enjolras sputtered.

“So you just look at everyone like that? It’s a wonder that the world doesn’t just melt at your feet.” Grantaire took a sip of his drink.

Feeling like this was the time to intervene before his friend exploded, Combeferre made his way to Enjolras’s side. “Hey, Courfeyrac was looking for you.”

Eponine, meanwhile, had a different tactic for her friend. She slapped the side of his head lightly and said, “Don’t be a dick, R.”

At that moment, the lights dimmed once again, and the next band made their way onto the stage. Enjolras made his way back to the group with Combeferre, Eponine and Grantaire in tow. As everyone danced and cheered, he focused on looking anywhere, anywhere at all, but at Grantaire. He stared stonily at the band, at the wall, at the bar. Anywhere but at the dark-haired man who kept shooting him glances.

Eventually, Grantaire seemed to give up too, and spent the rest of the night dancing with Eponine, spinning her around so that’d she’d laugh.

_Are they a couple?_ Enjolras wondered, before shaking his head. _Who cares? I pity her for having to deal with a guy like him._

After the second band ended, the group wrangled Feuilly from his job and made their way over to a bar next door. Enjolras spent the night chatting with Feuilly and Bahorel, as Grantaire seemed to have enlightening conversations with literally everyone there but him.

“No Monty?” Enjolras could hear Grantaire say to Eponine.

“Nah. I think he went home to sulk about Jehan.”

“A pastime we have in common. Well, the sulking part at least.” Grantaire said. After a brief silence, Enjolras expected Grantaire to make his way over to where he was sitting, and his shoulders tensed. But the other man never approached him, and when Enjolras turned his head he saw Grantaire conversing with Joly at the other end of the bar.

Not that he cared.

After a few hours of drinking and hanging out, Cosette said, “Well, I have an early class tomorrow,” with a yawn. “So I’m gonna head home. Thanks for a fun night!”

Marius literally fell out of his chair in his haste to walk her home, and the couple exited the bar. With that, the rest of the group dispersed as well, with talk of classes and papers and shifts at work in the morning.

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” Jehan said to Courfeyrac, giving him a quick kiss. “Thank you again.” He and Eponine and Grantaire gave their goodbyes to the group though Grantaire quietly avoided any further contact with Enjolras.

When the band had left, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Enjolras started their descent back to their apartment.

“So? What did you think?” Courfeyrac asked, practically jumping as they walked.

“I really hate that guy,” Enjolras grumbled, pulling his jacket on.

“Jehan? Why?” Courfeyrac asked, his exuberance quickly draining. “Was it because of the drummer? Does Jehan seem like too much for me? Was it-“

“Not Jehan. He was fine. The keyboardist, I mean. Grantaire,” Enjolras spat. “I’ve never met anyone so infuriating.”

Combeferre and Courfeyrac exchanged a quick glance that Enjolras was oblivious to.

“You seemed to talk for a while,” Combeferre said carefully.

“He’s ridiculous. I don’t think he has a single care in the world. Who can live like that?”

“Not everyone has to be an activist, Enj.” Combeferre smiled fondly at his friend.

“Well, I don’t think I want to spend any more time with him than I have to. Jehan is lovely, Courf, but I think I’m going to refrain from attending any more shows.” Then Enjolras pulled his phone out from his pocket, and the bright screen illuminated his still red face. “And it’s two AM. You guys promised me we’d be home by one.”

At that he increased the pace of his walk so that he was he a few feet beyond his friends, eager to return home.

Combeferre and Courfeyrac took their time behind him.

Finally, Courfeyrac broke the silence by saying, “When do you think is a good time to tell him that I invited the band to come to our ABC meetings?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is "Gorgeous" by Taylor Swift!  
> The gang lives around Baltimore because that's near where I live and I needed the fact that some of them are Ravens fans to make sense later. Also, Jehan is blond simply because my sibling is blond and I really connect the two of them! Lastly, if you're interested, please check out the [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/4sbnzJlJ6p1QSY0Glp7mfF) for this fic!


	2. Wonderwall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> R plays Enjolras an old favorite, and Enjolras just about swoons.

There are many things that I/  
Would like to say to you/ but I don't know how  
Because maybe /you're gonna be the one that saves me  
And after all/ you're my wonderwall

October 2018

Technically, this was all Eponine’s fault.

After all, she was the one that suggested they all go back to her and R’s place to hang out after the meeting.

“I don’t work tomorrow, for once, and we’ve got plenty of booze,” she’d said, shrugging.

Which, of course, had led to Courfeyrac screaming, “Party at R and Eponine’s!” He ignored the dirty look from the manager at the café and practically bolted out the door in his haste to get there.

“Does it really count as a party if it’s, what, thirteen of us sitting around a tiny living room drinking cheap beer? It sounds like my afternoons in middle school,” Grantaire said, adjusting his beanie firmly over his ears to prepare them for the cold outside.

“Not true,” Joly piped up, leaning against the back of Bossuet’s chair. “I’m pretty sure the three of us were the only ones that hung out together in middle school, and the one time you guys stole beer from your dad, you fell asleep before we could even enjoy any drunkenness.”

“I remember that!” Bossuet laughed, standing up from his chair (and almost tripping in the process.) “Didn’t you lecture us for like, twenty minutes about how dangerous underage drinking was?”

“Sounds like our Joly!” Musichetta said, gazing adoringly at her boys from across the table.

“It was dangerous then!” Joly protested. Then he added, “Of course, our brains are fully developed now, so no worries there. And I have nothing to do this weekend either, so let’s go nuts!”

“Don’t we have a lab due for our biomed class tomorrow?” Combeferre asked, pulling on his coat.

Joly blanched. “Damn. Now I really have to drink so I can relax about that deadline.”

“Well, anyone with unhealthy coping mechanisms is always welcome at La casa de R-and-Ep,” Grantaire said, raising his empty glass. “I’ll see you guys there?”

Everyone sounded their agreement, except for the one person Grantaire wanted to hear it from most. Enjolras picked up his red jacket from the back of his chair and silently slipped it on, avoiding eye contact with Grantaire.

“What’s the matter, Apollo? Too good for a middle school style house party?” Grantaire teased. He walked over to where Enjolras was standing by the table and pulled out a chair in front of him to plop on, blocking the other man’s path and making him sigh.

“No. I just have a lot of schoolwork to do,” Enjolras said firmly, circling around the obstacle. “And I have to go over everything discussed at the meeting. Not all of us can just sit and snooze through life.”

“Is your opinion so low of me? That hurts,” Grantaire replied, flinging himself forward in the chair. “Now I have no choice but to completely revamp my life. Say, do you know any good causes I can fight for? Any protests I should attend? I’ve heard you might possibly know something about these things.”

Enjolras grit his teeth. “Don’t make fun of me. Sorry I can’t go to your party. I’ll see you later.” He made his way to the glass door of the café and pressed a hand to it.

“Hey, Enjolras, wait,” Grantaire called, getting up from the chair and leaving it haphazardly in the middle of the floor.

He rushed over to where Enjolras was standing facing the door and placed a hand on his shoulder. Enjolras felt his heart slam into his ribcage before returning back to its normal pace.

Well, mostly normal pace.

Enjolras turned around, mostly in an attempt to make Grantaire stop touching him. It was making his brain go fuzzy, and Enjolras couldn’t have that. “What?’

Grantaire let out a quick sigh and removed his hand, and the playfulness from his eyes disappeared. “I’m sorry for making fun of you. If I’m being honest, I think it’s pretty amazing that you put so much into your work.”

Enjolras narrowed his eyes. “Considering the fact that none of it matters, right?”

“I apologized for that comment last week! Look, you’re a firework and I am a mere flame that blows out when it’s close to you. If you’re the sun, then I’m a phone screen when its’ batteries are dying. I’m-“ Realizing he was beginning to spew poetry, Grantaire stopped and met Enjolras’s eyes. “You should come to the party. I think you’ll have fun.”

He literally bit his tongue to keep from adding, “if you do that sort of thing.”

Enjolras furrowed his brow. “Why do you care if I’m there? You don’t even like me.”

Grantaire’s eyebrows shot up, and he let out a sound that was a mixture of a laugh and a cat’s dying wail. “You think I don’t like you, Apollo?’

“Why would you? We have nothing in common, and all you do is sit in the back at meetings and crack jokes about the causes. It’s like your life’s mission is to aggravate me,” Enjolras said, crossing his arms.

Grantaire was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “If you don’t want to come, that’s fine. I wouldn’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

At that, he pushed the door open past a bewildered Enjolras and entered the cold air. Almost as an afterthought, he turned around one last time. “For the record, you’re the one that doesn’t like me. I like you because you’re a demigod. You dislike me because I’m an asshole.”

“I’m just a person, R.” Enjolras said softly. “You know that.”

Grantaire only replied with a half-smile. Then he turned and began his descent back to his apartment, where their group of friends would be waiting for him. He didn’t expect to see Enjolras until next week’s meeting, if he decided he would keep showing up.

Who was he kidding? Of course he would show up! Sometimes Grantaire felt like he would suffocate without Enjolras around.

But he never expected to see Enjolras standing in front of his door an hour later, a bottle of wine clenched in his hand.

“Am I too late for the party?”

There was a beat, and then Grantaire said, “My door is always open for you, Apollo.”

And after it all, Enjolras did have fun. He listened to stories about middle school with Joly and Bossuet, laughed at Eponine’s hilariously mean impression of her boss, and egged on Marius as he arm-wrestled Bahorel on the coffee table. (He had to give the kid credit for trying.) He even hummed along as Grantaire, Jehan, Eponine, Cosette, and Courfeyrac started an impromptu sing-along that lasted well into the night. In fact, when Enjolras looked around the tiny living room at the faces of his friends, he felt his heart glow.

Maybe that was just the little bit of alcohol he had, or maybe Enjolras was a secret sap. But for once, he didn’t let those thoughts bother him. He just smiled fondly at the flushed and happy faces of his people.

At one moment, Grantaire caught his eye, almost the way he did at the concert all those months ago. Once again, he winked. But this time, there was a warmth in his green eyes that hadn’t been there before.

Enjolras felt his face turning red again, but he didn’t look away.

Later that night, he walked back to his own apartment with Combeferre and Courfeyrac.

“This is so dangerous. We’re so drunk,” Combeferre laughed.

“At least we’re not driving,” Enjolras muttered. “And our place is only a few blocks away.”

“I belong with you, you belong with me in my sweet hoooooome!” Courfeyrac sang loudly, continuing the song he’d been belting for the past few minutes. The other two elected to ignore him, until they made it back to the apartment and had to tell him to shut up.

It wasn’t until Enjolras got into his pajama bottoms that he realized he’d left his jacket at Grantaire and Eponine’s. He usually threw it on over his t-shirt before he headed out the door, mainly because he was horrible at remembering to do laundry. That was Combeferre’s turf.

Before climbing into bed (and ignoring his workload, for once) he shot a quick text to R.

_Did I leave my jacket at your house?_

Less than a minute later, Grantaire replied.

_Yup. Do you wanna stop by and grab it tomorrow?_

_Sounds good. Night, R._

_Sleep well Apollo._

On his way to work the following morning, Enjolras headed over to Grantaire’s. When the other man opened the door, Enjolras expected him to look disheveled and half awake. Instead, Grantaire was in the same clothes from the following night and sporting slightly red eyes, as if he hadn’t ever gone to sleep.

“Hey.”

“Hey. Your jacket’s right in here,” Grantaire said, turning back into the room. Enjolras didn’t know exactly why he didn’t just hand it to him, but he followed him into the apartment anyway.

“Ep’s still asleep,” Grantaire informed him, kicking pizza boxes from the night before out of the way with his foot. He picked up the red jacket from where it lay spread across the arm of the couch.

“Thanks,” Enjolras said, taking it from him.

Grantaire nodded, then said, “It smells like you, you know.” He startled, and then added quickly, “Like justice. And hair product.”

“I don’t use hair product.” Then, Enjolras noticed something across the room that he hadn’t before. “What is that?”

Grantaire turned to where Enjolras was looking, and then raised his eyebrows slowly. “Well, Enjolras, here on earth we call that a _guitar_. It magically makes music through strings and a hole-“

“I know _what_ it is,” Enjolras interrupted, annoyed. “I mean, why do you have it? Did Jehan leave it here?"

“No, it’s mine. I play it.”

Enjolras shook his head. “You play keys. I remember that from the show.”

This made Grantaire laugh. “Newsflash, Enj: a person can play more than one instrument.”

“Well…” Enjolras sputtered, stubbornly pulling at the zipper on his jacket. “I’ve never seen you play guitar!”

“You’ve never seen me shit either, but I assure you it’s something I can do.”

This earned him a glare, then Enjolras was quiet.

After a moment, he said, “Will you play something for me?” At that point, all thoughts of getting to work on time had been abandoned.

Grantaire walked over to the acoustic guitar and picked it up. “Like what?’

“I don’t know,” Enjolras shrugged, sitting cross-legged on the floor across from him. “Your go-to.”

Grantaire sank to the floor as well with the guitar in his arms. He twisted the pegs and strummed the strings to make sure it was in tune before saying jauntily, “Anyway, here’s Wonderwall.”

“I hate you.”

Grantaire chuckled, and began the first few notes of the song nonetheless. “ _Today is gonna be the day that they’re gonna throw it back to you…”_

And Enjolras sat, enthralled, at the man playing in front of him. Grantaire’s dark hair was long and tangled over his eyes, and his jeans were covered in splotches of paint that seemed more accidental than artistic. His voice was raspy and tired from the late night and early morning, but Enjolras looked at him as if he were a Broadway icon giving him a private concert.

“ _I don’t believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now,_ ” Grantaire sang, almost fervent in his passion.

Enjolras wanted to live in that moment forever.

Until suddenly, their bubble was popped by the wildly hungover Eponine, who burst out of her room with her arms crossed.

“Can you assholes PLEASE go flirt somewhere else? This isn’t goddamn _Glee_ , and some of us are trying to sleep!” With that, she stalked back into her room and slammed the door.

“Sorry about that,” Grantaire said, setting the guitar down. “She’s pissy without sleep. Raincheck?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Enjolras said, awkwardly standing up from his position on the floor. “And I didn’t mean to make it seem like I was flirting. I respect you guys, I promise.”

God, he couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

“Was that flirting? You’re terrible. Wait, what do you mean ‘respect?’” Grantaire asked, jumping up.

Enjolras shrugged. “I know you’re a couple, and I didn’t mean to make it look like I was getting in the way of that.”

Grantaire let out a hoot. “Oh, Jesus, I’m gonna have to tell ‘Ponine later. She’s gonna lose it.” He laughed harder and ran two hands through his tangled hair.

At Enjolras’s raised eyebrow, Grantaire said, “Relax, Apollo. I’m gay. She’s one of my best friends, not my girlfriend.”

Enjolras felt the air rush out of his lungs like they’d been popped by a needle. “Oh” was all he could manage for a moment. Then he added, “Me, too.”

Grantaire gave him a smile. “You don’t say.”

Enjolras’s lips slowly turned upward until he felt his phone buzz loudly in his pocket. “Shit, I have to be at work. I’ll see you later, R!”

“Bye, Apollo.” Grantaire said, closing the door behind him as he left.

Enjolras was late to work for the first time in his life.

He couldn’t care less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catch Enj being an overachiever by being a full-time student with a part-time job AND one of the leaders of a club. What a guy. I'm guessing you all know "Wonderwall" is by Oasis! Anyway, here's The Origin of Love's [Spotify Playlist!](https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/4sbnzJlJ6p1QSY0Glp7mfF)


	3. Barricade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Amis have a football party, and E and R share a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you live in the US and are a Patriots fan... sorry in advance!

“Trapped on the terraces/ I looked at you and knew/  
You were the only thing that mattered/  
There was no one for me but you” 

November 2018

“For Christ’s sake, why are they showing Christmas commercials already? It’s the weekend after Halloween!” Enjolras complained, leaning back against the couch from his spot on the floor.

“Capitalism? Christian centrism? Nostalgia?” Jehan suggested, leaving the kitchen and entering the living room of his apartment, a tray full of nachos in his hands.

Bahorel immediately stretched out his arm from the couch and swiped a chip off the tray. “It could be worse. They could be showing them in July.”

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” Eponine grumbled from her spot next to him. She was sandwiched in between Bahorel and Marius with Cosette on his left side, and she couldn’t seem to decide if that made her happy or not.

On the arm of the couch next to Cosette perched Combeferre, who was swiping through the calendar on his phone. “Enj, Thanksgiving is only twenty-four days away, and in television’s mind that means it’s practically over.”

“Is the game back on yet?” Feuilly called from the kitchen, where he was grabbing beers with Grantaire. The two of them returned to the group of friends with their arms full, and passed them around.

With the nachos placed on a side table, Jehan made his way over to the left of the couch, where various beanbag chairs had been spread. He plopped himself next to Courfeyrac and said, “Doesn’t look like it!” in response to Feuilly’s question.

“Why a bunch of artsy kids got together to watch a football game is beyond me,” Grantaire said, shaking his head as he sat down on the floor next to Enjolras.

“Speak for yourself!” Feuilly said, making himself comfortable in the armchair to the right of the couch. “Baz and I played together in high school.”

“Yup,” Bahorel confirmed with a nod. “We didn’t win a single game, but we played.”

“I love football!” Musichetta complained, from where she was snuggled in the armchair to the left of the couch with Joly and Bossuet. “It’s just fun, you know? You get to scream at the TV and eat junk food. Those are like, two of my favorite things.”

“Shhh, the game’s back on!” Eponine screeched, and everyone on the couch and in the armchairs leaned forward to concentrate.

Even Marius, who was actually rooting for the other team. “My grandfather liked the Patriots, so they’re all I know,” he said with a shrug to Cosette.

She laughed. “My papa will kick your ass if he hears you say that.”

As the game progressed, even Courfeyrac and Jehan got into it, cheering and yelling whenever something exciting happened. (They couldn’t care less who won, but after all, theatrical people like opportunities to be theatric.)

Grantaire watched and cheered along with everyone, gulping down his drink as he did so. “Imma get another, anyone want anything?”

Everyone shushed him, as apparently the team was about to make an important kick.

“Actually, can I get some meatballs if you’re heading in the kitchen?” Marius asked.

“Sure, man.” Grantaire stood up, and Enjolras felt the warmth from his body next to him evaporate. Suddenly, he found himself standing up too, and quickly headed to the kitchen with Grantaire, as Eponine swatted him to make him get out of the way.

He found Grantaire leaning over into the cooler, pulling out more beers. When he heard Enjolras’s footsteps on the linoleum, he straightened up and turned around. “Hey. Did you need something?”

“No, I just-“ Enjolras found himself wracking his brain for a reason as to why he was there. “Just… needed a break from all of that.”

Grantaire nodded. “I completely understand.”

They were quiet for a minute. Then Grantaire said, “Not a big football fan, huh?”

Enjolras scoffed. “Please. It’s all a big commercial. And I get they’re good athletes, but they could do something really significant with all that money! And Tom Brady, don’t even get me started on that douche-“

He stopped when he saw the massive grin spreading across Grantaire’s face. “What?”

“Oh, this should be fun. I’m gonna teach you to like football.”

Enjolras snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“Do you enjoy anything, Apollo? I’m asking this seriously. No sports, no Christmas, no music-“

“I like to read,” Enjolras interrupted. “And I genuinely enjoy the work that I do. Helping people, changing lives… makes me feel like I’m making some sort of a difference.”

“And that’s great that you have that,” Grantaire said. “Really. But some of us are mere mortals that enjoy things just because they mean nothing. And I’m going to teach you how to do that.”

With that, he grabbed Enjolras’s hand with the hand that wasn’t holding a beer and pulled him back into the living room. Enjolras felt lighting shoot through his palm, and yet he never wanted to let go.

When they returned to their spots in front of the couch, Marius started to say, “Did you get my-“ before being elbowed by Cosette.

“I think you can get your own meatballs, Mar.”

“He offered!” Marius protested, before sighing and standing up.

“Sorry, bud, it completely slipped my mind,” Grantaire apologized, but when he turned to Enjolras there was a twinkle in his eye and a slight smirk on his lips.

Enjolras found himself staring at those lips, wondering what it would be like to lean over and kiss them, when Grantaire spoke and startled his thoughts.

“So I’m assuming you know how the game is played, right?”

Enjolras gave him a look. “I’m not a moron.”

“Okay, okay. What we’re gonna do is take all that rage built up inside of you-“ -this earned him a playful smack on the arm- “-and channel it into the TV. Watch Eponine if you’re stuck.”

Sure enough, the ref soon made a call that benefitted the Patriots over the Ravens.

“That’s bullshit! The playback totally proved that was unfair!” Eponine yelled, and the others chimed in their agreement.

“Go on,” Grantaire encouraged.

Enjolras cleared his throat. “Totally unfair. That guy has no idea what’s going on.”

“Damn straight!” Bahorel agreed, fuming.

“That did not make it any more fun, R,” Enjolras said.

Grantaire shushed him. “Just try.”

Later, a player made a pretty spectacular touchdown, and almost everyone jumped up onto their feet, screaming. Marius shook his head in disappointment, and Enjolras stood once Grantaire pulled him up by the hand.

“This is the fun part! Winning!” he shouted.

“The game’s not over?” Enjolras said, confused.

“Enjolras is right, the game’s not over! Let’s not get cocky!” Musichetta warned, sitting back down. “It’s not even halftime yet.”

“Oh lord, it’s not even _halfway_ over,” Enjolras complained, but he found he didn’t mind at all when he and Grantaire sat back down next to each other.

“I’m gonna order the pizza now, is that okay with everyone?” Jehan called to the room. He dialed the number into his cell phone and Courfeyrac leaned into him and placed his head on his shoulder.

An hour later, the pizza had arrived, halftime had been completed, and the two teams were neck and neck. Enjolras wasn’t sure he’d been converted into a football fan (and had gone on a few angry tirades about how the cheerleaders were treated in this league) but even he had to admit that the atmosphere with his friends was a fun one.

By the end of the fourth quarter, everyone was staring intently at the screen.

“C’mon, Tucker, you’ve got this,” Musichetta said, both hands squeezing Joly and Bossuet’s tightly.

“Did we ever go to a football game in high school?” Bossuet asked Joly across from Chetta.

He considered. “We went to one. I think it was to see R in the marching band.”

Hearing this, Enjolras turned his head to Grantaire with a smile. “Marching band?”

“I was a band geek, what can I say? Not much has changed, to be honest,” Grantaire laughed. “Anyway, I don’t think you were doing anything cool, either.”

“I played violin in the orchestra,” Enjolras admitted. “So no games, but plenty of recitals.”

“Hey, marching band is cool!” Cosette called indignantly. “First chair flutist over here.”

Marius gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I would _love_ to see pictures of that.”

However, Cosette couldn’t respond because Bahorel started screaming, “Go, go, go!” at the TV, which got everyone fired up. Hands were being squeezed and eyes widened until the Ravens scored and ultimately won the game.

Everyone, even Marius and Enjolras this time, jumped and cheered with a roar that seemed to echo throughout the whole apartment.

“I feel like one of us just won a Tony!” Courfeyrac beamed, one arm around Jehan and pulling Joly into a hug.

Enjolras had screamed and jumped as well, and even pulled Grantaire into a hug without even thinking about it. Amidst all the chaos, the air seemed to still for him, and he could only focus on the way Grantaire’s shoulders felt under his arms, and the way his torso seemed to tighten with Grantaire wrapping himself around it.

After a moment too long to be considered normal but far too short for Enjolras’s liking, they broke apart. Grantaire looked up at Enjolras with a half-smile, dazed.

“Told ya I’d turn you into a football fan, Apollo. It even made you tolerate me more.”

All Enjolras said back was, “Yeah, I guess so.”

He was dying to say, “I don’t tolerate you. You’re the only person I could ever imagine enjoying football with.”

Maybe Grantaire saw something shining in Enjolras’s blue eyes, because his green ones stared back in the chaotic, crowded room, saying silently, “You are the only person in the world that matters.”

As quickly as it came, it left, and Eponine tackled Grantaire from behind. “Finally! Finally, my team got one!”

Grantaire chucked and spun her around. “Victory drink?”

“God, please.”

Walking back into the kitchen with him, she muttered, “God, I could never see myself with a Patriots fan. They nauseate me.”

“Glad you’re finally coming to your senses, especially considering Pontmercy has none,” Grantaire said, giving her shoulders a squeeze as they walked. But then he turned his head and saw Enjolras, seemingly deep in conversation with Combeferre.

“These games sure bring out a different side in people,” he said softly.

Eponine gave him a weird look, then turned to see where he was looking. “Okay.”

She pulled him back over to the cooler. “No need to get all sappy on me, mister. It’s only a game.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Figured I would take one of the fandom's most popular songs- "Barricade" by Stars- and try and put it in its actual context, somehow! This party is inspired by a similar one my family had last November, hence the gang being Ravens fans. 
> 
> (As always, here's the [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/4sbnzJlJ6p1QSY0Glp7mfF))


	4. Staring at the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras is studying abroad in France, and he and Grantaire start to write each other letters to stay in touch.

“Watch the sunset/ hold it from afar  
Close as I get /to being where you are  
While there's light left/I sing this song for you  
Don't know if you care/ but every day/I do”

January 2019

Dear Apollo,

Combeferre told me to try writing you and actual letter, like it’s the 1800s or something. He said the two of you used to do it in middle school when you went to different summer camps. I said that was the most sickeningly sweet thing I’d ever heard. Then, of course I did it. It’s almost impossible to say no to that man. 

Texting is fine, but it doesn’t make it feel like you’re here. If anything, it puts you in a weird limbo where you’re both accessible and not. Writing a letter, at least, showcases the actual distance between us. And it gives me something to look forward to when you write back.

You don’t have to, though. I know you’re busy. Study abroad coursework is a lot, I’m sure. You’re probably in your element. Just remember to sleep every once in a while. I know I’m one to talk, but I’m not the one saving the world.

I miss you.

Fuck, letter writing makes me sappy. It makes me feel as if I’m a civil war Scarlet O’Hara typewriting to her Confederate soldier husband who will die only two weeks before the war ends.

_Confederate?!?!?!?!_ I can hear you screaming all the way from here. It’s kind of hilarious.

Who cares if it’s sappy? I still miss you. I miss hearing the way your voice actually sounds, not the way it comes through in a long-distance skype call. ~~I miss the curl of your hair and your smell and the way your eyes bore into mine. I miss everything about you.~~

Enough about me. Are you still loving Paris? I hope you are. Have any French girls fallen desperately in love with you yet? If not, don’t worry. There’s still time.

Eat a baguette for me, will ya? I have no idea if I even like them, but they seem so stereotypically French.

I’ll be here with everyone once you get home in four a few months. Actually, scratch that- I might be on tour with Barricade if Jehan can get that organized, but it’ll be just local stuff, nothing more than up and down the East Coast. I’ll be home the minute you are.

Love,

R

Dear Grantaire,

Paris is still wonderful. There’s always so much to do and see, and even though the workload for my class is tough and time-consuming (So much so that I’ve been living on a steady diet of coffee and an occasional macron- Joly would kill me) I’m still very happy here.

There’s a lot missing, though. Life without you and all our friends is a lot less… meaningful, I guess. I still care about my work with every part of me, but it always felt like so much more when I had you all surrounding me. (Even when you’d list all the reasons why my plans will never work.)

I miss you, too. Don’t worry about being sappy- I think it comes when you’re separated from essential parts of your life. I don’t even know how I can function as a human without my friends. Ferre still texts me and reminds me to do laundry. It’s embarrassing, like I’m a child. (I need those texts, though. But don’t tell him I said that.)

I wish I could go see Barricade on tour. That’s so amazing that it’s happening! I think Courfeyrac is really going to thrive as a groupie, though I worry that he’s losing himself a little bit. Keep an eye on him for me, please?

I went to the Louvre yesterday, and I thought of you the entire time. I was going to send you pictures, but they weren’t allowed in the museum, and it wouldn’t be the same, anyway. I’d love to come back here with you someday so that you could explain all the artwork to me. It’s pretty, I guess, but I just don’t feel anything when I look at it the way you do. Maybe there’s something wrong with me.

I have a paper due on the ramifications of the new Paris homelessness act tonight at midnight, but all I wanted to do was write this and send it off to you.

I’m enclosing a postcard of a baguette I found (it was too expensive to send the actual bread) and one from the Louvre, so you can practice correcting my thoughts about art.

I hope you’re taking care of yourself back home, R. Just remember that there are a lot of people there that care about you, and one on the other side of the world.

Love, 

Enjolras

Dear Apollo,

Don’t ever think there’s something wrong with you, art-related or otherwise. You’re one of the few people in this world that actually, truly believes things can be better (and our friends are probably the only other people.) It’s a pretty remarkable sight to see.

I am, however, very jealous that you went to the Louvre and didn’t livestream everything for me. I think your commentary on what the art is would be entertaining enough on its own.

Maybe one day Barricade will sell a hit song or something, and I’ll have enough money to visit myself. You can come too, even though the others will find it a bit unfair that you get to go twice. I may have to stuff Jehan in my suitcase.

Did you know I watched the sunset last night? (Of course you didn’t.) It was the first time in ages that we didn’t have a gig, so I climbed onto the fire escape of the apartment with a cigarette and a beer and practically blinded myself staring at the sun. ~~It’s how I feel when I look at you sometimes~~. Anyway, the point is, it occurred to me that you might be watching this same sunset as well. Obviously not at the same time, with time zones and all that, but there was something very comforting about it being the same sun where I am and where you are.

Maybe that’s stupid, or doesn’t make sense. I don’t know. Are Parisian sunsets more beautiful than the ones in Baltimore? I’m sure they are. Will you find out? To get the full effect, sit on the roof of your dorm (if you can get up there) and just watch. You don’t even need the vices that I do.

Your schoolwork can wait for just a moment, I promise. I hope this makes you feel closer to ~~me~~ us.

Love,

R

Dear R,

I watched the sunset last night, just like you said. I wanted to call you so badly and see what time it was back home, and if you were watching it too. Logistically it wouldn’t have made sense, but I wanted so desperately to hear your voice as I sat and watched. But your real voice, not your long-distance call voice. Ever since you mentioned that in your first letter, I haven’t been able to hear them the same.

It was nice to know that this was the same sun that shined on you and our friends and everyone I admire. It made me feel a little less alone.

I know I have you and everyone else at the touch of a button, but it’s not the same as having you beside me. And I’m not interested in any French girls filling that role, either.

I’ve made a couple of friends in my classes, mainly other activists doing their study abroad. One guy, Leo, does these incredible paintings of the protests in the city, but every time I see them, I’m reminded of you. Have you been sketching much, lately? I know all your time is taken up by the band, but your art has always blown me away. Maybe you could do the cover for Barricade’s EP or something. That would be amazing.

I’ve been wearing my Barricade tee all around for the past couple days, hoping that someone would ask me about it so that I could talk about ~~you~~ the band. It makes me feel close to everyone.

Paris is the most incredible city I’ve ever been in, but its sunsets don’t feel as spectacular as Baltimore’s. Maybe if I had everyone I love with me to watch it, that’d change.

I can’t wait to come home. I never want to leave Paris, but I know my heart belongs with you and the amis. I’ll be there soon.

Love,

Enjolras

May, 2019

Dear Enjolras,

Before you come home next week, I wanted you to know something before I lose my nerve. Writing to you these past four months has given me so much joy, and I’m honestly kind of shocked that we actually stuck with it. Every letter I received from you felt like a gift from my best friend. (And a better one than Ponine would actually get me, mind you.)

Anyway, I wanted to put my thoughts in writing, just so that I could never take it back later or pretend I meant something else.

And it’s terrifying. What if it ruins the foundation we’ve built? I never, ever want to lose that. It’s become so sacred to me, but we all know I’m brilliant at fucking things up.

Nonetheless, here goes.

I love you.

Not like I love our friends. I love you like you’re the only person in the entire world I would want to watch a sunset with. I love you with everything in me.

And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same. That’s not why I said it at all. I said it because if I didn’t, it would eat me up inside. But I’ll hold it in forever if that’s what you want.

-Grantaire

Dear Grantaire,

Please, for the sake of all that is good in this world, don’t hold it inside you.

I love you like I’ve never loved anything in my life. I never in a million years would have seen it coming- and that is not in any way a jab at you, like I know you’re thinking it is. The thing is, I never saw myself loving anyone in that way. It wasn’t that I didn’t want it- it just wasn’t something that I envisioned for my future.

You changed everything for me, R. I can’t wait to come home and watch the sunset with you.

Love,

Enjolras 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://i-will-keep-on-dreaming.tumblr.com/) or [listen](https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/4sbnzJlJ6p1QSY0Glp7mfF) to "Staring at the Sun" by Mika!


	5. Always

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras is flying home from Paris, and Grantaire is definitely not freaking out.

“It was always you/falling for me

Now there’s always time/calling for me

I am the light/blinking at the end of the road

Blink back to let me know.”

“I’m gonna throw up,” Grantaire groaned, slouching down in the passenger’s seat.

Eponine turned from the driver’s side to give him a weird look. “Why?”

“Why? What do you mean, why?” Grantaire said, covering his face with his hands.

“R,” She said sharply. “You’re being ridiculous. You’re about to greet the man you love at the airport who, by the way, loves you back.”

“But what if he doesn’t? I never should have told him that in the letter. What was I thinking?” He leaned forward and rested his head on the dashboard.

Eponine took one hand off the wheel to hit him on the arm. “Sit up, moron. I don’t want your brain splattered everywhere if we get into an accident. And I still don’t see what the problem is! He LOVES you! You should be rejoicing!”

Privately, Eponine worried about how the hell this relationship with two very different, high-spirited people was going to work, but she kept that to herself.

“I was happy,” Grantaire mumbled, sitting up. “I couldn’t believe it. It felt too good to be true. And now I’m thinking that it was.”

“Why? I saw the letter. Ferre confirmed it was Enjolras’s handwriting. You have nothing to worry about.” She couldn’t help giving a little sigh as she said that, and glanced in her rearview mirror as she exited the highway.

“Yeah, except Enjolras and I never talked about those letters,” Grantaire explained. “Not over the phone, over text, nothing. It was like our own private little world. What if he wants to keep it that way?”

“I highly doubt he would have responded the way he did if that were so.”

“But maybe he’ll come back, all tanned and worldly and godlike, and see me being so-ugh- and change his mind.” Grantaire couldn’t even bear to look at Eponine as he said that.

Eponine shook her head. “Enjolras- and all of us, for that matter- loves you because you are so distinctly you. And also, I want to kick whoever made you so insecure in the balls.”

“Well, you’d be kicking me, because I’m pretty sure it has something to do with my brain’s lack of serotonin. And I think that would be a little counterproductive.” He couldn’t help letting out a smile.

Eponine laughed. “What a mood. What time is the flight landing, again?”

“One-fifteen. Ferre left with Bahorel and Feuilly a little earlier than us just in case it lands early.”

“And I’m guessing that Courf and Jehan still haven’t left,” Eponine predicted.

“Jehan is definitely ready, but Courfeyrac is definitely not,” Grantaire grinned, imagining his friend’s antics in getting out the door.

“Which leaves Joly, Boss, and Chetta, and Marius and Cosette,” she said, her tone wobbling just slightly.

Grantaire placed a hand gently on her shoulder. “Are you feeling any better about that crush?”

"If ‘better’ means I don’t feel physically sick when I see them anymore,” She replied, her grip on the wheel tightening.

“How do you feel, then?”

“Like I’d do literally anything to be her. But I can’t,” she said with a sigh. “So I’m just gonna have to get over it.”

“I’m sorry. Really.”

Eponine shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“And we all know Pontmercy is a certified idiot.”

Eponine smiled just slightly. “Yeah, yeah he is. Poor Cosette.”

She pulled into the airport’s parking garage, and Grantaire felt his stomach contract. “I’m back to the throwing up stage again.”

“Well, if you’re gonna do it, at least do it out of the car,” Eponine said, turning off the engine and stepping outside.

Grantaire took a deep breath and stepped outside too. When he slammed the door shut, he caught a glimpse of himself in the window’s reflection.

 _Christ, I look like I haven’t slept in a month,_ he thought. Nonetheless, he pulled his beanie firmly onto his head and followed Eponine into the elevator and up to the airport.

As usual, the place was bustling with people. People late for flights, sitting around after delays, and looking anxiously for loved ones over the gate. After they checked Enjolras’s flight number, they made their way over to his gate, where Combeferre, Bahorel, Feuilly, Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta were waiting.

“How the hell did you guys beat us?” Grantaire asked the trio.

“Chetta drove,” Bossuet replied promptly.

“Ah. That makes sense.” Joly was a notoriously safe driver, and Bossuet had a strange magnetism that made him catch literally every single red light.

The friends waited for a few more minutes until they were joined by Marius and Cosette, hand in hand. Eponine started to look away, but then she caught Combeferre’s eye. He left from where he was sitting with Feuilly and made his way over to her, pulling her into a conversation about the band and their upcoming tour.

 _That’s a good friend,_ Grantaire thought with a smile.

“I can’t wait to see him! It’s just not the same without him around,” Cosette said, peering anxiously at the gate. “I hope his trip was wonderful.”

“You were just on the phone with him yesterday, and he said it was wonderful,” Marius teased, bumping her with his hip.

“It’s different in person!” she protested.

“Ain’t that the truth,” Grantaire muttered.

Without a minute to spare, they were joined by Courfeyrac and Jehan, who were breathing heavily. “Did we miss him?” Courfeyrac asked.

“Yeah, don’t you see? He’s right here,” Grantaire said, pointing to the empty space next to him.

Courfeyrac gave him a mock glare and flopped down onto a seat next to Joly.

“Sorry to be late,” Jehan apologized, sitting next to Courfeyrac. “We had some time management issues.”

Courfeyrac raised his hands in surrender. “My fault. I admit it.”

“People are coming off the plane!” Cosette shrieked suddenly, and the whole group jumped up and turned towards the gate.

Grantaire felt his heart thumping so loudly in his chest, he was almost surprised that the others didn’t comment on it. With raggedy breaths, he scanned the crowd for blonde curls.

“There he is!” Combeferre shouted, and Grantaire saw Enjolras come into the room.

He looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes and his hair a little longer than when he’d left them. Nonetheless, his eyes lit up when he saw his friends, and his face broke out into a wide grin.

Everyone rushed towards him and bombarded him with hugs- except for Grantaire, who purposely hung back and let him see his friends first.

“God, I’ve missed you guys,” Enjolras said softly, hugging Cosette tightly before moving over to Combeferre.

“I’m a little disappointed you’re not wearing a beret, but I am still so happy you’re home!” Courfeyrac said with a bounce.

“Guess it’s a good thing I brought you one, then,” Enjolras smiled. “It’s somewhere in my checked luggage.”

Courfeyrac gasped. “Yes! Thank you!”

It was only then that Enjolras made eye contact with Grantaire, barely visible behind Feuilly. “Hey, R.”

“Hey. How was your fl-“

But he couldn’t finish his sentence because Enjolras had strode toward him and kissed him, deeply, in front of everyone. He even dropped his carry-on to put both hands on the side of Grantaire’s face, pressing his perfect lips against his like they were the oxygen he needed to breathe.

Grantaire was sure his group of friends had gone silent, but he didn’t care. In fact, the whole world had gone silent, because all he could hear was the soft sounds coming from Enjolras’s mouth, and _oh god._ He put his hands up in Enjolras’s curls, savoring the feeling of them that he had dreamed of for so long.

Finally, after not nearly enough time, they broke apart. As Enjolras rested his forehead against Grantaire’s, a question arose in his eyes.

“I hope that was okay for me to do.”

Grantaire let out a choked laugh. “Well, it proved that you read my letters.”

Enjolras smiled at him- in a way he never, ever had before, and wrapped him in a hug, burying his face in Grantaire’s neck. “I meant every word I wrote, you know.”

“Now I do,” Grantaire said, his voice muffled in Enjolras’s shoulder. “Me, too.”

He closed his eyes and held the man he loved, forgetting where they were and who they were with, everything that wasn’t Enjolras and the feeling of his arms tight around him.

It was Marius, of course, that broke the silence. “Umm… am I missing something?”

Grantaire and Enjolras turned and looked at the faces of their friends. Some shared the bewildered look of Marius, while others looked about ready to cheer. Combeferre and Eponine simply watched them with a knowing look in their eyes and a proud smile. It suddenly occurred to Grantaire that they were the only ones out of his friends that knew of what their letters actually consisted of.

“Well, I’m just gonna say it. That was fucking beautiful,” Bahorel said loudly, and the tension broke as the group of friends all laughed.

“I guess I have some things to talk about…” Enjolras admitted, and Courfeyrac marched over and punched him on the arm that wasn’t still intertwined with Grantaire.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! Now come here so I can hug the shit out of the both of you!”

While that went down, Combeferre tilted his head towards Eponine’s and said quietly, “How do you think this is gonna go?”

“Hard to say,” she said, equally quiet. “They could be together forever, or they could be over tomorrow. I feel like it’s all or nothing.”

“I agree,” he nodded. He pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and watched the two lovers, both blushing furiously red over comically wide smiles and dazed eyes.

He put an arm over Eponine’s shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze. “They’ll take care of each other, Ep. They’ll be okay.”

For just a moment, she rested her head on his shoulder. “I know they will. But I still worry.”

An hour later, the gang found themselves at a bar down the road from the airport, laughing and drinking and arguing about if eating at 3:30 pm was a late lunch or early dinner.

Before the checks were passed around, Grantaire leaned in close to Enjolras from the seat next to him. “I heard there’s gonna be clear skies tonight. Should make for an excellent sunset. Want to come over tonight? I can get Eponine out.”

“You’re really gonna make me stay up late after being jet-lagged on a long flight, huh?” Enjolras laughed. Then he placed a hand on Grantaire’s knee and gave it a squeeze. “I’d love that.”

Grantaire melted in his eyes for a moment before pulling apart from Enjolras to yell, “Ep! Go somewhere else tonight!”

“Fuck you!” She called back good-naturedly.

“You’re welcome to come to mine. I’ve got a sofa bed,” Combeferre offered.

Eponine gave him a relieved smile. “Thanks. I was afraid I was going to have to hear some scarring things- which, as a matter of fact, would probably have happened if I stayed literally anywhere else,” she added, looking around at her coupled friends.

Watching this, Grantaire furrowed his brow. “Is something going on with Ponine and Ferre?”

Enjolras frowned. “I don’t think so. But then again, I was gone for four months, so who knows.”

“I would’ve thought she’d tell me,” Grantaire said, a note of concern creeping into his voice.

“Ferre too,” Enjolras agreed.

“We’ll have to keep an eye on them,” Grantaire said, worry lines appearing on his forehead.

Enjolras leaned in to kiss them. “We will.”

“I like the sound of ‘we’,” Grantaire admitted, looking up into Enjolras’s face. “It’s different.”

“Well, do you think _we_ should head out soon? Get an early start on that sunset,” Enjolras murmured into Grantaire’s ear, close enough that his nose brushed the side of his face.

“You read my mind, Apollo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Always" is by Panic! at the Disco :) More songs from the fic to be found [here!](https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/4sbnzJlJ6p1QSY0Glp7mfF)


	6. Delicate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras and Grantaire finally spend some much-needed quality time together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff and romancing ahead! Also, shoutout to my IRL friends who shared the fic with each other on a zoom call. I love y'all!

“Is it cool/that I said all that?/

Is it too soon/to do this yet?/

Cause I know/that it’s delicate/

Isn’t it?”

Enjolras started kissing him again the minute the entered the apartment, so that Grantaire barely had time to close the door. He ended up pressed against the wall near the doorframe, his hands tied up in Enjolras’s hair as they fought to get as close as they could be.

When they pulled apart for just a moment to take a breath, their noses still skimming each other, Grantaire looked up into Enjolras’s eyes in amazement. Those bright blues, tired as they may be, were looking at _him,_ fondly and hungrily all at once.

“This feels like a dream. Actually, I’m pretty sure I’ve had this exact dream,” Grantaire said, leaning in to kiss the side of Enjolras’s neck, biting it softly.

He thought the other man was in ecstasy, when it turns out he was only repressing a yawn. 

Grantaire pulled away sharply. “Not exciting enough for you, Apollo?”

“No! No, you’re incredible,” Enjolras insisted with a smile. “I’m just exhausted from the trip. I still want to spend every second with you, though.”

He leaned in to kiss Grantaire again, but Grantaire put a hand on his chest to stop him. “I’ve got an idea. Give me one sec.”

He left a bewildered Enjolras standing in the living room and entered the bathroom. A moment later, Enjolras could hear the water running.

He returned and headed towards the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of wine and two glasses before returning to the bathroom.

“R?” Enjolras asked, peering inside.

Grantaire looked up at him sheepishly from where he was perched by the tiny bathtub. “It’s small, but I think it’ll do the job.” He stood and took a few steps over to Enjolras, wrapping his arms around his neck. “We’re going to have a relaxing, stereotypically romantic bath, and then go to sleep. I’ll wake you in time for the sunrise, instead.”

Enjolras blinked. “You never sleep, R. And I thought…”

“Plenty of time for that,” Grantaire insisted, pulling away from Enjolras. “You deserve a rest. I, however, am still selfish, and want to share that with you.”

And to Enjolras’s joy, Grantaire yanked off his t-shirt and tossed it onto the floor. “Your move.”

Hands shaking, Enjolras pulled his own shirt and jacket over his head, leaving them in a similar pile next to Grantaire’s.

For a minute, the two men just took the sight of the other in, breathless.

“Okay, I’ve gotta kiss you,” Grantaire said finally, putting a hand to the side of Enjolras’s face and bringing his mouth towards his.

After, they quickly pulled off their jeans and stepped into the steaming tub.

“There is no way this is going to work,” Enjolras said with a laugh. “This tub barely fits one of us.”

Grantaire considered. “I’ll sit first, and then you sit between. We might have to hitch our knees up, but it’ll be fine.”

He sunk into the bathwater and spread his legs apart. “The one time I’m thankful that I’m short and can actually stretch in this thing.”

Enjolras gave him a rueful smile, but all he could think of was the position they were about to be in. “Oh, it’s hot,” he said, sitting in front of Grantaire with his back to him in between his legs. Enjolras had to pull his knees up just a little to fit, but Grantaire was right. He didn’t mind at all.

He leaned back in the water and found himself relaxing into the other man, back to chest. Grantaire reached over and took his hand, giving him a long kiss on the cheek as he did so.

They each closed their eyes, enjoying the warmth of the water and their bodies pressing against one another. Enjolras felt a thrill jolt through his body when he felt Grantaire getting hard behind him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more content in my life, R. We’ll have to do this every time I have a final,” Enjolras said, letting out a long breath.

Grantaire laughed softly. “With your stress levels, we’ll be doing this every night, mi amor.”

“I’m okay with that.”

Later, Grantaire remembered that Enjolras actually did need a bath, and reached over to the edge of the tub to grab the shampoo. As he squirted some into his hands, he caught the wine glasses and bottle out of the corner of his eye.

“Looks like your sheer magnificence made me forget that I brought alcohol,” he commented, and began massaging shampoo into Enjolras’s curls.

Enjolras squeezed Grantaire's knee with his hand. “Next time. And thank you, by the way. You didn’t have to do all this.”

“Shut up, I’m being romantic. Now dunk your head to get the shampoo out.”

Enjolras obliged. When he came back up out of the water, he turned his body around so that his legs were straddled around Grantaire’s torso. The way he looked with water droplets falling off of his blonde curls and eyelashes was obscene, in Grantaire’s opinion.

“Your turn.” Enjolras held out his hand for the shampoo and Grantaire passed it to him. Similarly, Enjolras lathered his fingers through Grantaire’s tangled dark hair, and the other man closed his eyes at his touch.

“Ew, now you get to see firsthand how greasy my hair actually is,” Grantaire said apologetically, opening his eyes ever so slightly.

Enjolras gave him a look. “I was just on a nine-hour plane ride, and I’m blonde. I think I win that debate.”

“Nah. You look like an angel no matter what.”

“So do you!” Enjolras insisted, even when Grantaire let out a barking laugh. “I’m serious. That night I saw the band, the way the light hit you made you look like a deity. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. Now dunk.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes and submerged his head.

When he came up, Enjolras took his hand and pressed his lips to it firmly.

“Thank you for this. Now I’m ready for bed, if you are.”

Grantaire nodded. “Pull the drain, will ya?”

Standing up in their state was a challenge, and they laughed as they attempted to exit the tub while all tangled up in limbs. When they finally made it out, Grantaire threw Enjolras a towel from the rack and grabbed one for himself. They dried off and rubbed their heads with the towels, but couldn’t help getting distracted by the other’s lips.

After brushing their teeth (at Enjolras’s insistence) Grantaire took Enjolras’s hand and pulled him into his bedroom, which was untidy with sheet music and clothes over the floor.

“Sorry. I didn’t realize anyone would be here but me,” he apologized, letting go of Enjolras's hand to dig around in his dresser drawer.

“No need,” Enjolras said, peering around the room. “It’s very you. I like it.”

Grantaire tossed him a pair of boxers from the drawer, and pulled on a pair for himself. “Right side or left?”

“Right,” Enjolras admitted, sitting down on that side of the bed. “I’ve always been that way.”

Grantaire pulled up the blanket from the left side and got into bed. Enjolras followed him, and Grantaire secured the thick blanket over them both.

The bed was old and worn, but soft as a cottonball. Enjolras felt himself already sinking into sleep as he lay there, his face turned towards Grantaire’s at the other side.

“C’mere.” Grantaire gestured for him to scoot closer, so Enjolras rolled over and let the other man pull him to his chest, their feet intertwining and Grantaire’s head resting just behind Enjolras’s.

“Isn’t the taller one usually the big spoon?” Enjolras asked, his voice muffled.

Grantaire smiled, even though he knew the other man couldn’t see it. “I think you deserve it, tonight. Go to sleep, love.”

He kissed the back of Enjolras’s head and, almost immediately, the other man fell dead asleep. His breathing became soft and even, and his usually tight frame relaxed into the mattress and into Grantaire.

Grantaire prepared himself for another sleepless night in the dark, but this time, he didn’t mind. He held Enjolras tight as a teddy bear and felt his heart beating underneath his arms.

But then, somehow, he felt his eyelids drooping. Grantaire nestled into Enjolras and, for the first time in months, drifted off to a sound and quiet sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Delicate" is Taylor Swift again, because I'm basic. More songs to be found [here!](https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/4sbnzJlJ6p1QSY0Glp7mfF)


	7. Little Lion Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barricade gets nominated for a prestiegeous (well, in their minds) award, and Enjolras screws up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coronavirus doesn't exist in this universe because a) I wrote this in November before it really took over, and b) I make the rules and I say it doesn't exist.

“But it was not your fault/ but mine  
And it was your heart /on the line/  
I really fucked it up/ this time/  
Didn't I,/ my dear?”

May 2020

“Holy shit! Are you serious?” Grantaire said into the phone in the other room.

Enjolras was sitting in his usual spot in his bedroom: in his desk chair, slouched over the keyboard, eyes staring intensely at the screen. But when he heard the other man’s voice, he sat up straighter and spun around waiting for him to barge back into the room.

With Enjolras’s school and work schedule and Grantaire’s band schedule, spending quality time together had become increasingly difficult over the past year they’d been together. More often than not they’d simply be together while doing other things. Tonight, for instance, Enjolras was writing a paper while Grantaire had sat on his bed, attempting to write a song with his guitar in his lap and sheet music scattered around the comforter. That is, until he’d gotten a particularly interesting phone call and left.

Sure enough, a moment later Grantaire burst into the room, phone clenched in his hand with a wide grin on his face.

“What is it?” Enjolras asked.

“You’ll never believe this. Barricade is being inducted into the Baltimore Indie Rock Music Hall of Fame! I just got off the phone with Jehan, and he’s freaking out.”

By the way Grantaire was beaming, Enjolras knew he was supposed to be excited and impressed by this news, but he had no idea what that hall of fame was.

“R! That’s amazing!” Enjolras stood up from his chair to wrap his arms around Grantaire’s neck and kiss his cheek.

Grantaire laughed into his shoulder. “You have no idea what that is, do you?”

“I… no, I don’t,” Enjolras admitted, pulling away sheepishly. “But you’re excited, so I’m excited.”

“Thank you,” Grantaire said, taking his hand. “It’s really not a huge deal, though. Pretty much every band around here that lasts for longer than five years gets inducted, and no one in the mainstream music world knows it anyway. But this is the first time Barricade has ever been recognized for anything, so…”

“So, it’s a big deal,” Enjolras finished, pressing a kiss to Grantaire's mouth. “Is there an induction ceremony or anything?”

“Yup. There’s a ceremony and then a big party for us after,” Grantaire said. “Well, big if you mean our friends will be there and most of the people from the hall of fame committee. Will you come? It’s next month on the fifteenth.”

“Of course, I’ll come!” Enjolras insisted. “I wouldn’t miss seeing you blushing in a fancy suit for anything.”

“Bold of you to assume I own a fancy suit.” Grantaire’s face was still flushed from the news, and it made Enjolras smile.

He pulled him in for another tight hug and whispered, “I am so proud of you, love.”

June 2020

“R’s coming over,” Enjolras informed Combeferre, poking his head out of the bedroom into the living room.

“Why don’t you just live together, at this point?” Combeferre asked, perched on the couch with a book in his hand. “Courf’s almost all moved in with Jehan, and you’re always sleeping over at each other’s anyway.”

Enjolras shrugged. “We haven’t really talked about it. And that’d be such a burden to you or Eponine, unless we got enough money to buy our own place.”

At that, there was a crisp knock on the door and Grantaire entered the apartment. “You guys really need to start locking your door. There are weirdos out there that could just barge in. Hey, Ferre.”

“Hey, R.” Combeferre nodded at him. “I can’t wait for the ceremony next week! It’s gonna be such a blast.”

Grantaire practically bounced in place. “Me, too. I know it’s not the Grammy’s, but shit man, I’m letting myself be happy about this.”

Then, Grantaire turned and looked at Enjolras, whose face was slowly draining over color. “You okay?” He walked over to the other man and brushed a curl out of his eyes.

Enjolras let out a frustrated sigh. “The fifteenth, right?”

“Right.”

“Fuck. I double-booked,” Enjoras groaned, grabbing at his hair with both hands.

“Oh. Well, what did you schedule?” Grantaire asked, placing a hand on Enjolras’s wrist so he’d calm down.

“I have that dinner with the board of the Peace Corps. The director is only in town for the one night and wanted to meet with me, since they saw one of my ABC articles.” Enjolras hung his head. “Fuck. I’m so sorry.”

“Well, maybe you can meet with her earlier in the day? Or reschedule for later in the year when she’s back around?” Grantaire suggested.

Enjolras raised his head and peered into Grantaire’s earnest eyes. “No, this is something I can’t reschedule. I have to miss the ceremony. I’m so sorry.”

Grantaire took a step back. “Wait. What?”

“This is a really big deal for my career, and-“

“You already said you’d go. A month ago,” Grantaire interrupted. “And in case you’ve forgotten, this is the literal biggest thing that’s ever happened to my career.”

“You said it wasn’t a big deal, R. Maybe I can make it before the party ends-“

“Fuck you, of course it’s a big deal! It is for me, at least! You knew that,” Grantaire shouted, hurt filling up in his eyes.

“I think now’s my cue to leave,” Combeferre mumbled, setting down his book and silently exiting the apartment.

In the hallway, he dialed Eponine.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Ep. Can I take refuge at your place? E and R are in a fight and I think it’s gonna get nasty.”

“Oh, shit,” She sighed. “Yeah, of course. I guess we’ll be on best friend duty later.”

“Guess so,” He agreed, and began to make his way down the block.

Back inside, tensions were growing higher.

“I already said I was sorry! I overbooked. It happens. I’ve got a lot on my plate-“

“That you think is more important than mine.”

“That is not true!” Enjolras protested.

“It is!” Grantaire screamed, waving his arms. “Your saving-the-world is far more important than my stupid band. You’d always pick the world over me.”

“Literally when else has that happened?” Enjolras asked, arms crossed. “You KNOW you’re my first priority, always.”

“Then why the fuck aren’t you coming to the induction ceremony?”

“I scheduled something that I can’t miss! If I cancel this, it could kill my future career before it even starts.”

“There you go again,” Grantaire accused, pointing a finger at Enjolras. “At least now I know where I stand in your list of priorities.”

“No, you don’t-“

“I’m done with this,” Grantaire cut him off and stomped over to the front door.

“R, wait, don’t go,” Enjolras protested, following him.

“What else more is there to say that hasn’t been said?” Grantaire asked, looking directly into Enjolras’s face.

_I love you. I’m an idiot. I’ll do anything for you._

Enjolras said nothing.

Grantaire slammed the door as he left.

The dinner the following week was riveting, Enjoras was sure, if he could find it in him to retain any of the information said in it. Sure, he’d dressed up in his best suit and tie, laughed when appropriate, and sipped fancy wine over talk of political reforms that he droned on and on about. The leaders and board members smiled at him as if they were ready to elect him president on the spot.

But Enjolras couldn’t think of anything else but his friends, dressed up and excited in front of an old stage, watching Jehan, Eponine, Montparnasse, and Grantaire become inducted into the hall of fame. He hadn’t talked to Grantaire in a week. He had no idea if the man was excited, nervous, thrilled, nonchalant, or any combination of those- and he missed him with every fiber of his being.

“And we really appreciate you taking the time to meet with us, Mr. Enjolras.” A woman was saying, her teeth looking white as a shark’s in her smile.

Enjolras nodded. “Thank you, as well. This is such an incredible opportunity, and I’m so grateful-“ then, he stopped. He thought about how Grantaire might be saying similar words in his acceptance speech right now.

“Mr. Enjolras? Is everything alright?” the leader of the corps asked, tilting her head.

Enjolras shook his head. “Sirs and ma’ams, thank you again for this wonderful evening. Unfortunately-” he stood from his chair and placed the cloth napkin from his lap onto the tablecloth- “I have to be somewhere else right now.”

The woman laughed. “Don’t be silly. We haven’t even ordered.”

“I’m afraid I’m not joking, ma’am,” Enjolras said firmly. “I broke a promise to the love of my life in order to be here tonight. And my conscience simply can’t take it any longer. I apologize profusely for wasting your time, and hope you’ll find it within you to allow me to meet with you again someday.”

With a final nod, he exited the restaurant, and immediately hailed for a cab.

Getting inside the taxi, he told the driver, “The Hugo Club, please.” Knees bouncing anxiously, he pulled out his phone from his suit jacket pocket typed a quick message for R.

“I know it’s too late, but I’m coming.”

After what felt like hours, the cab pulled out in front of the club. Enjolras paid the driver as quickly as he could and ran to the front doors, pulling them open to be greeted by a bouncer.

“Do you have a ticket?”

“Yes, yes I should,” Enjolras panted. “My name is Enjolras.”

As the man scanned his list, suddenly Enjolras had a chilling thought. What if Grantaire had taken him off the list, and sold his ticket?

“Alright, head on in,” The man said finally, and Enjolras barely managed a “thank you” before racing inside.

The familiar club looked almost unrecognizable, with its crowd dressed in finery and tables of food placed on the floor around the stage. He lurked at the back of the crowd and stared intently at the stage, where Jehan, Eponine, and Montparnasse stood behind Grantaire at the microphone.

“This may not seem like much, but it’s such an honor for a little band like us,” Grantaire was saying. “From the bottom of my heart, thank you.”

With that, he sidestepped the microphone, and the crowd cheered wildly for him. Enjolras could even make out Bossuet screaming, “That’s our R!” in the front row.

His heart ached to be with them.

Nonetheless, he stayed back in the shadows as the band took pictures with the award and finally dispersed the stage. Enjolras watched his friends swarm onto the band, jumping and hugging and smacking kisses onto one another.

Suddenly, he was tapped on the shoulder. Startled, Enjolras turned to see Montparnasse, who had broken away from the festivities.

“Will you go talk to him, please?” Montparnasse said, sounding bored. “He’s been so goddamn emo this week. I can’t take it anymore.”

“I will,” Enjolras said. Then he added, “Congrats, by the way.”

Montparnasse snorted. “This induction means literally nothing. We might as well been put on a list of bands that are never going anywhere, ever.”

“Yeah, but it’s important to him. Them. And that makes it important to me,” Enjolras found himself saying.

Montparnasse rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He then headed over to the bar, leaving Enjolras alone again.

Well, almost alone. Enjolras caught Grantaire standing to the right of him out of the corner of his eye, looking unfairly handsome in his emerald green suit. He supposed he’d rented it, but never got a chance to ask.

“I got your text,” Grantaire said, taking a few steps closer to Enjolras.

“Oh,” Enjolras said, at a loss for words for almost the first time in his life. Then suddenly, everything he wanted to say came pouring out.

“I never should have gone to the dinner tonight. I was miserable knowing you were here missing me, and miserable all week without you. You are _not_ second to my work, or anything. You are the person I care about more than anything in the world, and I am so, so sorry for making you feel like you weren’t. I really fucked it up this time, but I swear I’ll never do anything like that again.”

He finally paused, and forced himself to look into Grantaire’s eyes.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Apollo,” Grantaire said finally. Enjolras opened his mouth to respond, but Grantaire held up a hand to stop him.

“These things will happen. And it sucks. But the fact that you clearly ran out in the _middle_ of an important meeting shows me you care,” Grantaire finished.

“I should have canceled to begin with. Now I look like a moron to them for leaving before we got food, and you for showing up at the end of your speech,” Enjolras said, rubbing his temple. “God.”

“I heard what you said to Monty, though,” Grantaire said. At Enjolras’s raised eyebrow, he added, “About this being important to me, so it’s important to you. That was really nice to hear.”

Enjolras found the courage to take the other man’s hand and give it a squeeze. “I love you. And because of that, what matters to you matters to me. I just need to work on showing that better.”

Grantaire nodded. “I forgive you. And I love you, too.”

Enjolras pulled the other man close and wrapped his arms around him. “Thank you.”

“At least I know you’re not perfect, now.” Grantaire laughed softly.

Enjolras frowned over his shoulder. “I wish you wouldn’t say things like that. I’ve been at fault hundreds of times before this, probably more so than you.”

“Okay, okay.”

At that moment, Enjolras had to let go of Grantaire because of a hard punch blown on his arm. “Ow! What-“

“That’s for being late to our show and making my friend cry, asshole,” Eponine shouted, crossing her arms.

“Ep, it’s fine, really,” Grantaire attempted to placate her.

“No, it’s not fine! Everyone deserves to be punched sometimes. And today was Enjolras’s turn,” she insisted.

By that point, the rest of the friends had noticed his arrival, so Enjolras was greeted with a hug from Jehan. “Thank you for being here!”

“Of course!” Enjolras said with a forced smile. “I didn’t want to miss it for anything.”

He looked over at Grantaire, and the man gave him a soft smile in return.

_You screwed up, but that’s okay._

As Enjolras chatted and celebrated with his friends, a new thought entered his mind. What could he do to show Grantaire how much he meant to him? Besides proposing, of course.

And then, he had it. “Hey, Jehan,” he asked, pulling him aside. “Could you teach me how to write a song?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Baltimore Indie Rock Music Hall of Fame is definitely not a thing, but I so wish it was. Song is "Little Lion Man" by Mumford and Sons- more songs [here!](https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/4sbnzJlJ6p1QSY0Glp7mfF)


	8. Need You Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A 1:30 AM text conversation between Enjolras and Grantaire in the aftermath of the awards ceremony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> R is in bold, E is in italics.

“And I wonder if I ever cross your mind.

For me, it happens all the time.”

**_Hey. Are you awake?_ **

_Yeah. Are you okay?_

**_I’m fine._ **

**_I know we kind of agreed to spend a few days apart, but nighttime gets hard._ **

**_(That’s what she said)_ **

_I was going to agree with you, but now I’m thinking nighttime is much more peaceful._

**_Rude._ **

_You know I miss you._

**_…I didn’t actually._ **

_How could I not miss you?_

**_You’re you, Apollo. Being in Paris was one thing, but now I still see you every day. It’s no different than it was before we were whatever we are now._ **

_It’s so much different. Now I know what it feels like to love you. It’s hard to forget that._

**_Wow._ **

_What?_

**_I’m trying to decide if that’s the real you talking, or one-in-the-morning you._ **

_What does that mean?_

**_One-in-the-morning you is traditionally, based on other one-in-the-morning personas, much more emotional. Ep, for instance, will not tell me she loves me when she’s drunk, but she will tell me after one AM._ **

**_I’m a little drunk too, so I’ll probably start spewing romanticism all over the place._ **

_You text very well for someone drunk._

**_You know what they say about habits._ **

_Why are you awake, anyway?_

**_You know me. I’m always awake, until it becomes 8 AM and I pass out until 3._ **

_Rockstar life._

**_I wish._ **

**_Actually, I take that back. The true Rockstar life would kill me. This one is already cutting it pretty close._ **

_I hate when you say things like that._

_We can get you help, you know._

**_I know._ **

_Would you accept it if we gave it to you?_

**_Probably not. But I know you all mean well._ **

_We don’t just mean well. We love you._

_I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you._

**_It’s not your fault. You didn’t make me like this._ **

_I know, but I could try and fix it._

**_You can’t fix everything, Apollo. Especially me. I’m just another problem in the world._ **

_Stop. You’re my most important problem in the world._

**_You’re making me blush._ **

**_I worry about you too, you know._ **

_Why?_

**_You care so much. I could see you running out in a protest and getting shot._ **

**_In fact, I have seen it._ **

**_Sometimes I can’t sleep because that’s all I see._ **

**_Otherwise it’s just, ya know, normal insomnia._ **

_Please don’t worry about me. I’m safe._

**_For now._ **

**_Also, my bed feels so empty without you in it._ **

**_That sounds dirty but I actually didn’t mean it that way (for once)_ **

**_I mean it’s like the other piece of me is missing_ **

_I don’t even sleep in my bed half the time._

_I’ve been passing out in my desk chair in front of the computer._

_It’s killing my neck._

**_Will you come over?_ **

**_I sleep better with you next to me._ **

_Are you still mad at me?_

_You should be. I’m still mad at me._

**_No._ **

**_I miss you too much to be mad anymore._ **

_You saw me this morning._

**_Meetings are different. You’re addressing everyone- our friends, politicians, god himself. Sometimes my selfish heart just wants you all to myself._ **

_I feel that way too. Especially when I go to your shows and I see the amount of people absolutely fawning over you._

**_Psssshhhh._ **

_It’s true!_

**_No it’s not. But thanks for the ego boost._ **

_This probably isn’t healthy, though. We have to accept that we belong to a lot of other people, and not just each other._

**_I don’t feel about anyone else the way I feel about you._ **

_Yes. But you also don’t feel about Ep or Joly the way you feel about anyone else. There are different kinds of love._

**_Since when did you get so knowledgeable?_ **

_I’ve learned from the best._

_And by the best, I mean Jehan._

**_That guy is my hero. I wish I could go back in time and write an inspiring paper about him for my tenth grade English class._ **

_Do you think we all would have been friends if we’d known each other in high school? A lot of us already were._

**_Hell, no._ **

_Why not?_

**_A lot of us were different people then. I would’ve been so infatuated with you that I would have irritated you to the point of genuinely despising me._ **

**_Like now, but a million times worse._ **

_I would have liked to have known you longer._

_I can’t decide if I feel like I’ve known you forever or for a week._

**_I feel like I’ve loved you all my life, but only known you for a month._ **

_I feel bad not having that same experience._

_It took me a little while to fall for you, despite what everyone says._

_It was like my soul knew something before my heart and mind did._

**_I was amazed it happened at all. Don’t feel bad._ **

_R?_

**_Yeah?_ **

_I love you with every part of me. And I’m not just saying that because it’s 1 AM and I’m lonely._

_Though technically, I was working and you texted first, so you’re the lonely one._

_But I can’t sleep without you either._

_I ache when I’m not talking to you._

**_Christ, Enjolras._ **

**_How the hell did I get lucky enough to have you love me?_ **

**_(By the way, I love you more. Because it is a competition.)_ **

_Stay right there. I’m coming over._

**_Aha! Mission accomplished._ **

_I’ll try not to wake Ep coming in._

**_She’ll survive._ **

_See you soon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of references in this one, so kudos to you if you saw any and exposed my nerdy self. Song is "Need You Now" by Lady A, and more can be found [here!](https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/4sbnzJlJ6p1QSY0Glp7mfF) And if you're enjoying this, feel free to let me know on [tumblr!](https://i-will-keep-on-dreaming.tumblr.com/)


	9. King of My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jehan helps Enjolras write a very special song for Grantaire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess Taylor Swift doesn't exist in this universe, because Jehan and Enjolras write one of her songs. Or maybe she buys it from them later. That's up to you.  
> Also, coronavirus still doesn't exist here. (Wish I lived in this universe!)

“And all at once/ you are the one/

I have been waiting for.”

July 2020

“This is hopeless,” Enjolras said, tossing his pen down on the kitchen table and running his hands through his hair. “What was I thinking? I’m not the creative type, not like you or R. Literal hall of Famers, for god’s sake.”

Seated across from him, Jehan picked up the pen and gave his friend a patient smile. “Don’t worry, Enj. We’ll work through this together.”

“I’ve been trying to write a song for R that isn’t terrible for a _month._ How long does it take you to write songs, usually?”

Jehan shrugged. “A couple hours or so, sometimes quicker if I’m collaborating or really feeling inspired. But that’s just me.”

Enjolras groaned. “I feel like a second grader writing a poem.”

Surrounding them were scraps of paper with various crossed out lyrics and rhymes, and a few crumpled-up pieces surrounded Enjolras’s chair.

Jehan pursed his lips, thinking. “Let’s try something different- instead of you trying to work your feelings into something poetic, just tell me how you feel naturally. And we’ll go from there.”

Enjolras let out a breath. “He’s…” he began, thinking. “I’d never really been in love before this,” he said, surprising Jehan with his sudden honesty. “There’d been boys I’d gone out with and looked up to, but no one… no one I saw a future with, you know?” He peered at Jehan, almost as if he were unsure of what he’d said.

Jehan nodded, writing something down on a fresh piece of paper from his notebook. “I do.”

“And then I meet R,” Enjolras continued. “And he’s compelling, and infuriating, and suddenly I want nothing more than to spend all my time with him. I didn’t even understand why. Now I do- I love him and I know him. But even after a few weeks, or a few hours, it was like… no one had ever made me feel the way he did. And it confused the shit out of me.”

“And look at you now- you’re building a life together,” Jehan said, looking up from his paper with a grin. “Listen, before I met Courf and you guys, Grantaire was always out with one guy or another. I’d never seen anyone keep his attention like you did, and that honestly kind of worried me.”

Enjolras scoffed. “I felt the same way. Courf used to have a different crush every other week. Then he sees you, and you’re all he talks about for months.”

A slight pink blush tinged Jehan’s cheeks. “I’m very lucky. He’s my favorite person in the world.” He was quiet for a moment, then said, “Didn’t you and R totally make up from the ceremony fight? Eponine said you were just over the other day.”

Enjolras nodded. “Yeah. I still wanted to do something for him, anyway. I know how insecure he can get, and I need him to know that he is so much more than enough for me.”

Jehan wrote that down. “Do you think you could put into words what it felt like to know you were falling for him?”

Enjolras furrowed his brow, thinking hard. “I was in Paris. I missed him. Logically, I knew I was fine living on my own over there, even though I missed our friends. I’d kind of made up my mind that I was better off being alone, anyway.”

“How come?”

“I don’t know. Relationships are a ton of work that I didn’t really have time for, and I didn’t think I’d find someone I’d be truly compatible with, anyway,” Enjolras said, folding his arms. “Plus, I didn’t really know anything about them. I’d never let anything get close enough to me before- romantically, at least.”

“But R was special.”

“Yeah,” Enjolras nodded, smiling. “Not quick enough, and then all at once, I knew he was the one.”

Jehan looked up from his paper and beamed. “We have the beginning of a song, my friend.”

“No way!” Enjolras exclaimed, standing up and pulling his chair over to Jehan’s so he could peer at his work.

“It’s just a few lyrics, and there’s no music to it yet, but there is definitely something here.”

“ _King of my Heart_?” Enjolras read, squinting. “I’m not really big on monarchies,” he said, wrinkling his nose.

Jehan waved away his concerns. “It’s poetic. Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay. You’re the artist,” Enjolras muttered.

At that moment, they heard a quick knock at the front door, then the sound of a key being pressed into a knob.

“Hey, Jehan, I think I left my notebook here-“ Grantaire started, then stopped when he saw the two of them sitting at the table. “Oh, hey. What’re you guys up to?”

“Just chatting,” Jehan said smoothly, taking the piece of paper with their song on it and sliding it into a folder on his right. “I think your notebook is on the counter by the fridge, for some reason.”

“Cool.” Grantaire shuffled past to retrieve it, and Enjolras gulped.

“I’m terrible at keeping secrets! What do I do?” Enjolras whispered frantically to Jehan.

“Relax. We’re friends. Just say you wanted to catch up,” Jehan whispered back as Grantaire came back into the room.

“Well, I’m off again. Thanks for letting me invade your home, Prouvaire.”

“Anytime,” Jehan nodded, and Enjolras stood up from his seat.

“I’m actually gonna head out, too. Thanks for the help,” Enjolras said, giving Jehan a smile.

“Again, anytime,” Jehan grinned back, and the couple exited his apartment.

“So,” Grantaire said, as they walked down the street to where their cars were parked. “Did Jehan say you needed his help with something?”

“Yeah…” Enjolras said, staring at the ground. 

He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He could always find the right thing to say to rally a crowd, or snap back in an argument. But this time, his mind was blank.

“It’s a surprise,” he said finally, a smile unintentionally crossing his lips.

Grantaire raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yeah. I can’t tell you, though,” Enjolras said, bouncing a little as he walked. _Duh,_ he thought a moment later, mentally smacking himself. 

Grantaire chuckled. “Well, it must be something good, then.” He stopped when they reached Enjolras’s car. “Wanna do dinner at mine tonight? We can order in from that Italian place you like, maybe sit outside. It’s supposed to cool down later.”

“Sounds perfect,” Enjolras said, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s mouth. “I’ll follow you there.” 

In just a few hours the couple was sitting cross-legged on the fire escape, knees touching, and cartons of food placed precariously on their laps. The sun was slowly setting over the city, giving the sky a hazy golden tint.

“This reminds me of when you were abroad,” Grantaire said, stealing a piece of ravioli from Enjolras’s box with his fork.

Enjolras nodded. “I’m just glad we can spend this time together now.”

“Yeah. I don’t know what I’d do if we had to spend that much time apart again,” Grantaire remarked casually, his mouth full.

Enjolras didn’t answer. He started down at his pasta, a slight frown appearing on his lips.

Grantaire tilted his head. “Hey. You okay?”

Enjolras looked up and met his boyfriend’s green eyes, filled with concern. “What are we gonna do, R? Someday you’ll have to go on a big tour, and I’ll be off working on a case or something. What if it’s too hard?”

Grantaire considered. “Yeah. I’m sure it will be hard.”

“So…”

“So we’ll deal with it when we get there,” Grantaire said, taking a sip from his beer. “I think we’re finally in a really good place, Enj. And I’d hate to fuck that up by worrying about what’s coming. Which I do all the time, believe me,” he added.

“How do you stop worrying?” Enjolras asked.

Grantaire shrugged. “I look at you. Or send you a text. And I try and appreciate that I live in a universe where I get to call you mine.”

“I’d call you mine in every universe!” Enjolras protested.

Grantaire snorted. “Sounds fake, but okay.” He was quiet for a moment, then said, “I worry all the time that we have an expiration date, Enj. Can we just try and stay here for a little while?” 

Enjolras placed his hand on Grantaire’s knee and gave it a quick squeeze. “Of course. But I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

Grantaire gave Enjolras a half-smile, but didn’t answer.

They continued to eat their dinner and peer out at the sky, but Enjolras couldn’t shake the feeling that settled into his stomach.

He had to finish that song.

August 2020

With work, class, and the ABC, it took longer than Enjolras would have liked for him and Jehan to get together to write. But when Jehan strummed the last note on his guitar and said, “That’s it!” Enjolras couldn’t stop the smile from spreading over his face.

“You think? No more tweaks?” Enjolras said, his knee bouncing.

“No more tweaks,” Jehan confirmed, setting his guitar down. “I’m really proud of you, Enj.”

“I literally could not have done it without you. Thank you, thank you!” Enjolras said, clapping his friend on the shoulder.

“I cannot wait to see the look on R’s face. He’s going to be so happy!”

“Yeah…” Enjolras bit his lip. “Yeah, I hope so.”

Later that night, the gang was gathered, as usual, at the Musain. The meeting had finished up about ten minutes prior, but everyone lingered, chatting, ordering last minute cups of coffee from Eponine, and simply enjoying each other’s company.

Enjolras glanced around the café from where he was seated with Grantaire, and caught Jehan’s eye. Jehan gave him a nod, and Enjolras stood up from his seat at their table, clearing his throat.

“One last thing before you all head out,” he said, his voice wobbling only slightly.

His friends turned from their conversations to look at him.

“Did we forget to talk about something?” Marius asked.

Enjolras shook his head. “No. We covered everything. I just…” he looked down at Grantaire, who still seated at the table and peering up at him with a curious smile.

Enjolras took a deep breath. “Earlier this summer, I made a mistake. And I wanted to make up for it. R, I know you forgave me but I…” he said, turning to Grantaire. “I need you to know how much you mean to me.”

At the counter, Eponine reached over and poked Courfeyrac in the shoulder. “Do you have any idea what’s going on here?”

“I don’t know, but I think my boyfriend is involved!” Courfeyrac replied gleefully, eyeing Jehan as he picked up his guitar case from where it lay near their table.

Grantaire raised an eyebrow. “Babe, it’s not my birthday, or even Valentine’s day. What’s going on?”

Instead of answering, Enjolras looked over at Jehan, who had taken his guitar out and stood next to him, tuning it softly.

“Jehan and I wrote this song,” Enjolras said finally. “And I’d love for you all to hear it.”

Grantaire’s dropping jaw was almost as noticeable as Courfeyrac’s sequel of excitement. Amidst the excited whispers of their friends, everyone sat back down at their respective tables, leaving Enjolras and Jehan standing.

Grantaire grabbed Enjolras’s hand. “Enj, I love you for doing this, but I know singing’s not really your thing.”

“I know,” Enjolras nodded. “But I’m gonna do it anyway.”

With that, he cleared his throat, and Jehan began strumming a soulful melody.

_I’m perfectly fine/I live on my own/I’ve made up my mind/ I’m better off being alone_

Enjolras’s singing voice was thin and uncertain, as if it wasn’t a muscle he stressed very often. But at the looks of patient encouragement from his friends, he kept going.

_When we met/a few weeks ago/you tried on calling me, baby like/trying on clothes_

Grantaire stared, eyes bright and wide, at the man in front of him. His normally cheeky grin had taken on a sense of awe, and Enjolras even noticed a slight splotch of red behind the scruff on his cheeks.

_And all at once/ you are the one/I have been waiting for/king of my heart/body and soul_

Though Enjolras could never be called a strong singer, he grew more confident in the chorus, with help from the first cheer from Cosette.

“I can’t believe he’s doing this,” Combeferre whispered, slackjawed, to Feuilly. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and added, “He wouldn’t even go to karaoke with us in high school!”

Feuilly shrugged. “Guess he found something worth singing about.” Then he chuckled softly, giving Combeferre a side glance. “Karaoke?”

“Don’t look at me. Courf always insisted.”

_Is this the end of all the endings?/My broken bones are mending/With all these nights we're spending/ Up on the roof with a schoolgirl crush_

Joly, in a table near the back-right corner of the café, leaned in to kiss Bossuet and then Musichetta on either side of him as they watched Enjolras pour his heart out.

_Drinking beer out of plastic cups/Say you fancy me, not fancy stuff /Baby, all at once,/ this is enough_

At that line, Enjolras took Grantaire’s hands and squeezed them tightly. Grantaire stood, and looked at his lover as if they were the only two in the world.

_And all at once,/ you're all I want,/ I'll never let you go/King of my heart,/ body and soul,_

_And all at once._

Enjolras’s voice wobbled on the final note, but it didn’t matter because the moment his mouth closed, Grantaire leaned in and pressed his lips to his, before engulfing him in a tight hug.

“That was wonderful,” he murmured into Enjolras’s neck. “Thank you.”

When they pulled away, they noticed their friends had begun clapping and cheering. The group quickly came out of their chairs and surrounded Enjolras, Jehan, and Grantaire.

“Dude. I knew you had balls, but that was something else!” Bahorel exclaimed. At Enjolras’s worried look, he added, “It was amazing. I wish I could do something like that.”

“It’s all thanks to Jehan, really,” Enjolras said, and Courfeyrac gave his boyfriend a smacking kiss on the cheek.

“Do you- do you think I could have that song?” Grantaire asked, eyes shiny.

Enjolras furrowed his brow. “It’s already yours.”

“No, no, like can I sing it? With Barricade? It’s gorgeous, and the best gift I’ve ever gotten. Unless you’re supposed to be who sings it?”

“Oh, god,” Enjolras laughed. “I think I’ve sung enough for the rest of my life. I felt like I was going to pass out the whole time. Yes, by all means, sing it with Barricade!”

Grantaire beamed, and kissed him again.

“Now I think I need to sit down,” Enjolras said, collapsing back into his chair with a long sigh.

“If y’all are done being sappy, the store closed five minutes ago,” Eponine called, though her exuberant face gave away any signs of annoyance.

The gang began to file out, giving Enjolras and Jehan compliments and side hugs as they headed out the door.

“Guys, I cried like a baby. I love it!” Bossuet sniffled, as he exited with his partners.

Soon, the only ones left were Enjolras, Grantaire, Eponine, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Jehan.

Courfeyrac was helping Jehan put the guitar safely in its case when Grantaire asked, “Hey, would you mind if I made a piano arrangement of this?”

“Not at all,” Jehan said with a smile. “It’s for you.”

“Thank you!” Grantaire said, giving Jehan a tight hug of his own.

The group began heading out together, but then Eponine pulled on Enjolras’s sleeve and had him stay behind.

“Thanks for doing that for R,” she said, giving him a rare, genuine smile. “You have no idea how much it’s gonna mean to him.”

“That was the plan,” Enjolras said softly.

Eponine fondly bumped his arm with her fist-her equivalent to a hug.

Together, they walked out of the café to catch up with their friends.

Later that night, as Enjolras lay beside Grantaire in his room, he heard the other man get up slowly, as if he were trying to make as little noise as possible.

Enjolras didn’t pretend to fall for it. “Hey. You okay?”

He could only see the outline of Grantaire’s shirtless figure in the dim light, coming from the moon outside the window.

Grantaire leaned in to give him a quick kiss before standing up. “Inspiration’s striking. Try not to mind me.” 

Enjolras lay back and listened to Grantaire’s soft footsteps travel to the living room, where a few notes from the keyboard flittered in like a dream.

_We rule the kingdom inside my room/'Cause all the boys and their expensive cars/With their Range Rovers/ and their Jaguars/ Never took me quite where you do_

Enjolras knew Grantaire was sitting alone in his dark apartment, hunched over a secondhand keyboard, and singing quietly enough to try and keep from waking the notoriously grumpy Eponine in the other room. But when he closed his eyes, he could see his love playing a grand piano in front of a million people, a spotlight shining solely on him.

_Late in the night,/ the city's asleep/Your love is a secret I'm hoping,/ dreaming,/ dying to keep/Change my priorities/The taste of your lips is my idea/ of luxury_

“I hope you make that song a hit, my love.” The words tumbled out of Enjolras’s mouth as he drifted off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "King of My Heart" originally by Taylor Swift can be found [here,](https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/4sbnzJlJ6p1QSY0Glp7mfF) but I was also inspired by [this cover!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_BE73Wc7t_k) I like to think of R playing and Jehan singing, something like that. Also [this acoustic cover,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t0HF9xc8sqQ) and Taylor's own [acoustic version!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cu4PgGHmFEE) All three versions (four, if you count the original) remind me of Enjolras, Grantaire, and Jehan.


	10. Hallelujah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A protest goes terribly wrong, and Enjolras shows Grantaire his vulnerable side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW- xenophobia and some violence. This idea has been in my head for a long time. If it's terrible, please tell me and I'll try and make it better! This was also written back in November, so their protest is all my own invention. (Also, the amis are not fans of Trump, so be warned if you are.)

“But baby /I've been here before/  
I've seen this room /and I've walked this floor  
You know/ I used to live alone/ before I knew you  
And I've seen your flag on the marble arch/  
And love is not a victory march/  
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah.”

September 2020

“So it’s settled: we’ll protest outside the capital next Friday at one,” Enjolras declared, peering around the café at his friends’ faces.

Most of them shared a look similar to his: burning bright eyes, and eager, confident, smiles. Even Eponine stood behind the counter, wrapping silverware with her lips perked just slightly.

“I already posted the details to our Instagram page, so we should have a pretty steady flow of additional protestors,” Cosette added. “And my papa is offering self-defense classes for anyone who’s interested.”

“Will those be necessary?” Marius asked with a frown. “We’ve protested before, and nothing’s happened.”

“It’s better to be safe than sorry,” Musichetta said, placing a hand on Joly’s bouncing knee next to her.

“And the likelihood of it getting dangerous is very low,” Combeferre said.

“I don’t know, man,” Bahorel called from across the table. “You know how Trump supporters can be.”

Enjolras nodded. “Which is why we are taking any and all precautions. I am prepared to fight, but I will never ask any of you to put your lives on the line. This should be a peaceful protest of his immigration policies, nothing more.”

Courfeyrac threw his fist in the air. “Viva la révolution!”

At that, the crowd began to disperse. Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta left hand in hand, and Feuilly and Bahorel began arguing amicably about the easiest way to get to the concert they were going to that night. Cosette gave Enjolras’s shoulder a squeeze as she walked past with Marius, practically bumping into Jehan and Courfeyrac as they asked her about her dad’s self-defense class.

Combeferre made his way over to Eponine still at the counter. “Do you want any company until your shift ends?”

“My brother’s actually gonna be here any minute, but you’re welcome to stay until then,” she said, placing the wrapped silverware in the tray and placing it on a shelf above her.

With everyone gone, Enjolras looked curiously over at Grantaire, who was still seated at a table at the back of the café, scribbling something furiously in his sketchbook. Enjolras walked over and pulled out a chair next to him.

“You know the meeting’s over, right?”

Grantaire’s head snapped up. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry.”

“I didn’t hear much from you today,” Enjolras said, unsure if he should be happy or sad at the lack of cynical comments.

Grantaire snorted. “You sound like all of my high school teachers.”

“Be serious,” Enjolras said, placing a hand on his arm. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. I’m great. Wild, even. Look.” Grantaire turned his sketchbook over to Enjolras and bit his lip. “I’ve been working on this all day.”

Enjolras took the book from him and peered at the open page. “R,” he said softly. “This is beautiful.”

For the pages were covered in masterful sketches of each and every one of their friends sitting around the café during the meeting. Grantaire had managed to capture, with only a pen, the blaze in Enjolras’s eyes, Courfeyrac’s ringing laugh in his wide grin, and Marius staring goofily at Cosette. He saw the slight crease in Combeferre’s brow when he was thinking intently about something, the subtleness of Eponine’s careful gaze, and Bossuet’s chair tipping, about to fall.

Grantaire shrugged. “It’s- actually, no. I’m allowing myself to be proud of this.”

“I’m almost happier to hear that than to see your work,” Enjolras admitted. “You’re talented. You deserve to feel good about your work.”

“Then again, it is just a bunch of rough outlines-“ Grantaire started, but Enjolras quickly covered his mouth with his hand.

“Shut up. It’s good, and you’re good. Hey!” Enjolras quickly moved his hand away when Grantaire licked it, but revealed the other man’s pleased smile.

“Thanks, Apollo.”

He leaned in to give Enjolras a small peck on the lips, but was suddenly interrupted by a boy’s voice calling, “Ew!”

They turned to see a kid of about twelve, with chin-length dark hair and a backpack over a dirty jean jacket.

“What, cause we’re gay?” Enjolras shouted, his mood immediately turning.

“No, who cares if you’re gay? Kissing in a public place is disgusting,” The boy protested, and Eponine came over from behind and placed an arm around his shoulders.

“Sorry about that, Enjolras. This is my little brother, Gavroche.”

“Sup.” Gavroche nodded his head at the couple, a cheeky grin on his face.

“Hey, bud,” Grantaire nodded. “Man, I haven’t seen you in ages. How are you holding up?”

“Fine. I’m holding up the fort at home while Eponine’s gone,” he said, and his sister let out a sigh.

“Our parents are dicks, and they’ve hardly let me see my siblings since I moved out. But luckily-“ she gave Gavroche a squeeze, to which he squirmed out of her grasp- “they’re out of town this week, so I get to watch Gav.”

“What about your sister?” Grantaire asked, remembering the other little girl that used to hang around them.

“Azelma’s staying at her friend’s for a little while. I’ll hang out with her in a few days.”

Enjolras cleared his throat. “Sorry for yelling at you.”

“It’s cool. Eponine does it all the time; she’s just pretending to be a caring sister,” Gavroche said, which earned him a smack on the head from Eponine.

Combeferre, who had been chilling by the now-closed register for the past few minutes, finally came over to the group. “I’m gonna head out. Enj, will I see you at home, or are you going to Taire’s?”

“I think we were planning on hanging out at home, right?” Enjolras said, looking at Grantaire for reiteration.

“Fine by me. I’m sure Ep and Gav want to spend some quality brother-sister time together, anyway,” Grantaire teased, and the Thernadier siblings made identical disgusted faces.

“Alrighty. I’ll see you guys there, then.” Combeferre gave everyone a warm smile and headed out the door.

“I’m guessing that’s _Marius,_ huh?” Gavroche said in an obnoxious voice, peering up at his sister.

“What? No, that’s Combeferre,” Eponine replied, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh. I just figured he must be him, considering how often you keep sharing mushy looks with each other,” Gavroche shrugged, placing his hands in his pockets.

Eponine’s mouth dropped. “Oh my god, no. No.”

“What does Marius have to do with anything?” Enjolras asked, looking wildly around at everyone.

This made Eponine blush even redder, so she grabbed Gavroche’s hand and started pulling him towards the doors. “I’ll see you guys at the protest, okay?”

Gavroche pulled away. “A protest? I wanna go!”

Eponine shook her head. “Nuh-uh. No way.”

“Why not? I can handle myself.”

“Not the point. I’m responsible for you, and I don’t want anything happening. So, no,” Eponine said firmly, crossing her arms.

“I mean…” Enjolras started, his hand scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t want to intrude, but it really is important for young people to be politically active.”

“Yeah! I wanna yell stuff at Trump!” Gavroche shouted.

“So he’ll vote in six years. Right now, he’s just a kid. He doesn’t need to be around any more chaos than he needs to,” Eponine said, giving Enjolras a glare.

Gavroche tugged on her hoodie like a toddler. “Pleeeease, Ep? I’ll be careful! I’ll stick with you and R the whole time, and I won’t make any obscene signs this time.”

“This time?” Grantaire had to ask, his eyebrows shooting up.

“A school assembly fiasco,” Eponine sighed. She peered down at her brother, and then at the earnest faces of her two friends in front of her. “I’m really not comfortable with this…”

“Then you don’t have to allow it. They’ll be plenty of other protests for him to go to when he grows up,” Grantaire said, patting her shoulder.

Gavroche frowned. “If I can’t go with you guys, I’ll just sneak out. Then we’ll be separated, and it’ll be even LESS safe.”

Eponine squinted at him. “Why can’t you just be a normal kid?”

“Genetics and access to the internet. So do we have a deal” He asked, holding out his hand like a car salesman.

She groaned, and then shook it. “Fine.”

“Yes!” he hollered. “I’m totally making a sign! I think it’ll say, ‘Not ok, boomer.’ Something like that.” And he galloped out the door.

Eponine turned to Enjolras and lowered her voice, even though Gavroche was outside and wouldn’t have been able to hear her anyway. “If he gets so much as a paper cut, so help me God I will smother you in your sleep.”

“It’ll be fine, Ep,” Enjolras said, giving her a quick one-armed hug. “This isn’t our first time doing this.”

“This ain’t our first rodeo,” Grantaire mimicked out of the corner of his mouth. When Enjolras gave him a look, he added, “Actually, thinking about you as a cowboy kind of turns me on.”

“Can you promise he’ll be okay?” Eponine said, staring intensely at Enjolras.

“I promise,” Enjolras said, placing a hand over his heart.

“...Alright,” She waved goodbye, and exited the café to chase after her brother.

Grantaire took Enjolras’s hand as they made their way outside. “You probably shouldn’t have promised her that. She loves him to death, and is real protective.”

“I know,” Enjolras admitted. “But we’ll keep an eye on him. Besides, kids go to these kinds of things all the time. We have a permit, and we have a large group of people ready to keep him safe. I’m confident that everything will be okay.”

Grantaire shrugged. “If you say so, Apollo. You know I believe in you.”

Enjolras snorted. “I wasn’t aware you believed in anything.”

“Rude.”

They let themselves into the apartment, setting down notebooks and backpacks noisily in the joint living room/kitchen like they were kids coming off the school bus.

“Do you know what you want for dinner? I’m in the mood for, like, a _good_ hotdog. Is there a hotdog place nearby? Preferably one that delivers?” Grantaire asked, flopping onto the couch in the living room.

“Or we could just, you know, cook hot dogs here,” Enjolras suggested.

“Do we have hotdogs?”

Enjolras opened the fridge and peered inside. “No.”

“Well, that ruins that option.”

“You guys are so married, it’s ridiculous,” Combeferre called from his bedroom.

“Watch your mouth, or you might not get any hotdogs, mister!” Grantaire shouted back, waving his arms dramatically, even though Ferre definitely couldn’t see him.

Enjolras felt a warm fondness building in his chest. He sat down next to Grantaire and said, “Not to totally change the subject, but I was thinking… have you ever wanted to move in together?”

Grantaire raised an eyebrow. “Well, yeah. Someday. Why, are you offering?”

“Just putting it out there. I know it might be kind of annoying to Ferre or Ep depending on where we end up-“

“And figuring out the logistics of renting our own place, financially, will be tough,” Grantaire interrupted, resting his chin on his fist on thought.

Enjolras nodded. “But, on the other hand, we’re always together anyway. It might make sense to start consolidating.”

Grantaire surprised him with a sudden kiss on the mouth. “I love this. It’s so, I don’t know, official.”

“We’ve been dating for over a year, R. How could we not be official?”

“Ask my deeply rooted insecurities.” Grantaire laughed softly, and Enjolras placed a hand on his knee and squeezed it.

“The good thing is, we don’t have to decide just now. I know it’s a lot,” Enjolras said.

Grantaire adjusted himself so that he could lay his head in his boyfriend’s lap. “How about this: we plan on moving in together, and figure out how it’s going to work on a later date. In the meantime, dinner?”

Enjolras chuckled. “Sounds like a plan.” He pulled his phone out of his pants pocket and began surfing the web with one hand, the other absentmindedly playing with Grantaire’s hair.

“There’s a burger joint a few blocks down that has hot dogs, and it’s on DoorDash. Want to get that delivered?”

“God, yes, please,” Grantaire moaned, and Enjolras smacked him lightly on the side of the face.

“You’re gonna gross out Combeferre if you keep saying things like that, particularly when he finds out it’s about a dinner food.”

“I’m pretty sure that is not the worst thing he’s heard come out of my mouth. I’ve bunked over a lot, and these walls are thin,” Grantaire smirked.

Enjolras shook his head in exasperation, but he was smiling in the tender way he reserved only for Grantaire. They ordered a chili dog for R, a vegan dog for Enj, and a mac and cheese dog for Ferre, because he’s weird like that.

“How long until it gets delivered?” Grantaire asked, looking up at Enjolras from the spot on his lap.

“Forty minutes.”

“Huh...”

“Grantaire, we can _not_ traumatize Combeferre in broad daylight again!” Enjolras protested, knowing exactly what he was insinuating.

“The man has headphones! Besides, it’s getting dark.”

“It’s seven pm.”

“Maybe you’re right. I think we do need our own place,” Grantaire said, sitting up to kiss Enjolras deeply.

Enjolras made a noise of pleasure and pulled away. “Okay, fine, but we’re being quick and quiet.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Grantaire protested, but sat up and slid off of the couch. The two left for Enjolras’s bedroom and shut the door as quietly as they could.

Combeferre, hearing the thump of the door shutting from his room, let out a deep sigh, and reached for his headphones.

The following week flew by, with meetings, classes, gigs and rehearsals, and preparations for the protest. Barricade even wrote a special song in its honor, which they premiered at the café the night before, much to Eponine’s boss’s chagrin.

“We’ll post the demo to our YouTube page tonight to try and grab any additional followers, and then with some footage courtesy of Feuilly, we should have the music video out by next week!” Jehan beamed proudly at his friends, sitting his guitar down beside him.

“That’s so cool that you’re getting actual footage from the protest,” Bossuet said. “It’ll really drive our point home.”

“That’s the plan!” Jehan said. “It wouldn’t hurt to get Barricade some national attention, too.”

Gavroche, who had been stealing muffins from behind the counter, shuffled over to where the band was set up. “Can I join the band?”

“No Gav, you’re twelve. This isn’t the Jonas Brothers,” Eponine scoffed, setting her bass carefully in its case.

“What do you play?” Grantaire asked curiously.

“I can learn anything.” Gavroche shrugged.

Grantaire let out a short laugh. “Well, when you do learn something, let us know, okay?”

Enjolras stood from where he was seated at the front of the table and raised a hand. “I hate to interrupt- and thank you, guys, that was _incredible-_ but tomorrow is a big day, so I’m gonna call it a night. Any last-minute questions?”

“Will we be carpooling at all?” Courfeyrac asked. “I can try and borrow the van from my mom again.”

“That’d be great, Courf, thank you! We can figure out the details of who’s riding with whom over text tonight,” Enjolras decided. “Anything else?”

“Should we bring a lunch, or will there be food?” Marius said, raising his hand.

Eponine snorted. “It’s a protest, Mar, not a school field trip.”

“No, that’s actually a valid question,” Enjolras said, and Combeferre and Grantaire could tell by the way Enjolras’s nose scrunched slightly that it meant “for once.” “We’ll bring snacks, but if you want anything else you can grab it around town.”

“We can do snacks!” Joly volunteered, gesturing to Bossuet and Musichetta.

“Fantastic. Alright everyone, good work, and I’ll see you tomorrow!” Enjolras finished, a bright grin spreading over his face.

Grantaire trudged over to Enjolras as the rest of the group chatted and began exiting the café. “What time are we leaving?”

“Six,” Enjolras told him promptly, his face set as if he were ready for an argument.

“AM?”

“Yes, AM. The protest starts at nine, and we need to have plenty of time to set up.”

Grantaire groaned loudly and buried his head in Enjolras’s shoulder. “The things I do for love.”

“You’re actually doing this for the immigrants who have been treated despicably by the white house, if you’ve been paying attention,” Enjolras informed him.

“Wow, you assume that when I talk about love I mean you?” Grantaire said, looking up at Enjolras. “I’m doing because of my love for the cause, which has absolutely nothing to do with you.”

“Uh-huh.” Enjolras took his hand and pulled them out the door. “I know you think this isn’t going to do anything, but try and pretend for me, please?”

“I also thought there would be no way in hell you’d fall in love with me, so who can trust my judgment?” Grantaire said, swinging their intertwined hands. “Anything can happen.”

Privately, Grantaire thought this protest was going to make a lot of noise but very little true political change, but he kept that to himself. Because what was important to Enjolras became important to him.

They made their way home and eventually fell into bed, but neither could sleep. Enjolras stared at the ceiling all night, heart and mind racing with anticipation for the following morning. Grantaire, instead, lay on his side staring at his love, his own heart aching with worry for this man that cared so much about every single thing.

The beep of their alarm at 5 AM caused Enjolras to literally jump out of bed, as if he had been just lying there waiting for it. He raced over to the shower, and Grantaire could hear the water running less than a minute later. He let out a sigh and buried his head under the pillow.

Fifteen minutes later, Enjolras was back in the dark room, a towel wrapped around his waist and his curls dripping wet. “C’mon, R, get up,” he nudged him. “I’m gonna go make the coffee.”

“You’re usually a zombie in the morning without it!” Grantaire mumbled, popping his head up from under the blanket. “Activism must be like crack to you.”

“I’m just excited. And nervous. And thinking far too much,” Enjolras said as he pulled on a shirt and a pair of jeans.

“Hey. You said yourself that it’s gonna be great. Why doubt now?”

Enjolras sighed. “I don’t know. I always get like this before an event I plan.” He searched the room for his jacket and found it lying on his desk chair before rushing out the door to the coffeepot. 

Grantaire managed to pull himself out of bed and stumble over to the shower as the smell of fresh coffee filled the apartment.

After he was out and dressed, he found Enjolras and Combeferre standing in the kitchen with steaming mugs, fervently discussing the plans for the day.

“It takes about an hour and a half to get there, plus traffic. I know Courfeyrac is driving Jehan, Baz, Feuilly, Marius, and Cosette- remind me of the other cars? It’s just the three of us in yours, right?”

“Right.” Combeferre nodded. “Eponine is taking just Gavroche in case they want to leave early. Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta are driving together because, according to Boss, ‘they have enough snacks to end world hunger.’ I think Montparnasse is coming by himself just to play the song, then leave.”

“He is such a dick,” Enjolras spat, taking a long sip of his coffee.

“Hey, you thought that about me at one point,” Grantaire pointed out, making his way over to the coffee pot and pouring himself a drink. “Maybe you’re judging the guy too harshly.”

“I never thought you were a dick!” Enjolras protested. “I was just confused by my attraction to you.”

“I happen to remember you calling him, ‘the most infuriating person you’d ever met,’” Combeferre recalled, hiding his smile behind his mug.

Grantaire burst into laughter. “Bless your heart, now you’re stuck with me.”

“Okay, fine. Sometimes I’m wrong. Can we get back to business, please?” Enjolras said tightly.

Grantaire lowered his voice and tilted his head towards Combeferre. “Are we just going to ignore the fact that he admitted he can be wrong?”

Combeferre chuckled. “For today, yes.”

“Shit, it’s six. We’ve gotta go!” Enjolras exclaimed, grabbing his backpack and poster that were sitting on the floor by the door.

Grantaire poured his coffee into a thermos and gave Enjolras’s shoulder a quick squeeze. “We’ve got this. Let’s go change the world.”

The worst part was, it started out really well.

Everyone made it on time- even Courfeyrac’s van group, which led Enjolras to wonder why they didn’t worry about the idea of the notoriously late Courf driving- and met at the front of the capitol building, bundled with supplies and brandishing homemade signs.

“YOU SUCK!” Gavroche shouted, waving his promised “ok, boomer” poster around in the air.

Eponine shushed him. “I know what you’re trying to do, but wait until the actual protest, please?”

“Which should be any minute now!” Cosette beamed, clad under a pink baseball cap and brandishing her statue of liberty sign that read, “bring us your poor, your weary.”

Marius, at her side, squinted and looked around. “I think some people are coming up for the protest!”

“Are you the ABC?” A girl asked Enjolras, carrying a banner with the words, “We the People.”

“Yes, we are! I’m guessing you’re here for the protest?” he replied, a grin beginning to spread over his face.

“Yup! I brought some of my friends, too.” She gestured towards an approaching group of three girls and two guys, brandishing similar slogans.

Enjolras let out a relieved sigh as in the next few minutes, dozens upon dozens of people joined them in the square. Most were college-aged like them, but a few middle-aged people and their kids arrived too, eager to make their voices heard.

“It’s nine oh five. Do you want to start the announcements?” Combeferre said to Enjolras.

Enjolras nodded and cleared his throat. He stood up a little straighter and walked as close to the middle of the crowd as he could, and pulled out a bullhorn from his backpack.

Grantaire, who had been inspecting the snack pile with Bossuet, turned to look at his love, and felt his heart drop into his stomach for only a moment.

That was the man he had fallen in love with. He loved the man he knew, of course. That was the man with tired eyes and warm smiles and a kiss on the shoulder as they fell asleep. The man he loved that melted under his touch and joined him in the shower before they left for work.

He wouldn’t trade that man for anything.

But the man he had fallen in love with was a little different. He was pure fire, mesmerizing to watch but completely unapproachable. He was something to poke and prod just to see how he would react, but far too high above the mortal world to truly love. That man was built for stages, and crowds, and impassioned cries of revolution.

And in that moment, Grantaire couldn’t believe that that deity of a man had chosen to not only love him back, but show another side of himself as well. The side that worried, and cried, and forgot to sleep, and thought about other things besides justice. Like sunsets and what to order for dinner with his boyfriend.

Both sides made up the man he loved, and suddenly, he was so thankful to know him that he almost couldn’t hold it in.

“That’s my boyfriend!” he shouted, and Enjolras gave him an exasperated smile that said, _thank you, but not now, please._

“Hello everyone!” Enjolras said into the bullhorn. “Thank you for coming out today, it means a lot. We are a small group of student activists, but with the help of people like you, we can make a difference. My name is Enjolras, and I run the ABC with the help of my friends. If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to ask one of us. We will be the ones with ABC stickers on our shirts.” He pointed to Courfeyrac, who puffed out his chest and brandished the sticker to everyone in the vicinity.

“Now, without further ado, let’s show the government that immigrant rights are human rights!” He raised his sign in the air, and the crowd let out a small cheer.

The group made their way closer to the building, chatting and chanting and waving their signs. Joly and Bossuet handed out bottles of water to everyone who wanted one, while Musichetta pulled the bag of snacks and held up her poster that read, “IMMIGRANTS: WE GET THE JOB DONE.”

This continued for a little over an hour, when Enjolras felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Jehan, his face white and tightened with worry.

“There’s a counter-protest group making their way to us,” he said, looking back at the crowd and then at Enjolras. “They’re not too big, but with some of their rhetoric I’m still worried.”

“What are they-“ Enjolras started, but stopped when their loud voices assaulted his ears.

“Send them back!”

“This is America!”

“BUILD THE WALL! BUILD THE WALL!”

Enjolras grit his teeth, and pulled out his bullhorn then. “Our love must be louder than their hate!”

The group of protestors made their chants rise, but many people found themselves looking back at the other men anxiously.

“Time to call the police?” Joly asked, and Enjolras shook his head fervently.

“They’re not big enough to be cited for not having a permit, and they’re technically exhibiting freedom of speech, so nothing wrong in the eyes of the law,” he snarled. “We’re just going to have to ignore them. It’s the best we can do.”

Everyone knew that ignoring prejudice was the last thing Enjolras was good at, but he set his face and kept his eyes glued on the capital. “Immigrant rights are human rights!”

Gavroche, however, was the last person to do what he was told, in any context. So ignoring his sister’s pleas, he marched over to the counter-protestors. “Hey, jerks!”

“Gav, no, STOP!” Eponine called, running after him.

“What the fuck do you want?” A man spat, clad in a MAGA hat. His friends were other older white guys, sporting various Trump memorabilia, from the hats to shirts to their own signs.

“I want you to leave us alone to fight for justice. Maybe you can go back to jerking off to Fox News, or whatever you guys do,” Gavroche smirked, and the group circled around him angrily.

“What the fuck did you just say to us, kid?” One of them said, getting close to his face.

Eponine pushed her way through the crowd and put an arm protectively around her brother. “We’re sorry. He didn’t mean anything.”

By this point, most of the amis had noticed something was going on. Grantaire, Enjolras, Combeferre, and Jehan abandoned their spots and posters to stand as close to Eponine as they could get, and the others kept a careful eye on the group and the space around them.

“I know we shouldn’t get violent, but damn if I get the chance to kick some right-wing ass…” Bahorel said, cracking his knuckles.

Feuilly grimaced. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

“Didn’t mean anything? Like hell!” a Trump supporter swore. “He’s being brainwashed by left-wing libtards like you.”

“We’re not the ones being brainwashed, asshole!” Gavroche yelled, and did a mock salute.

That was when the first man hit him. Gavroche stumbled back closer into his sister, dazed.

“Stop! No! He’s just a child!” Eponine cried, trying to fend them off.

All of the amis came to her aid, whether it was pulling at the attacker or shielding Gavroche or calling for help.

Grantaire provided an excellent swing to the first attacker, leaving his eye purple and ripe to become black. Enjolras grabbed at him from behind to prevent him from retaliating, while Bahorel, Feuilly, and Courfeyrac launched themselves at the other angry men. Combeferre, Jehan, Marius, and Cosette tried to get a hold of Eponine or Gavroche in any way they could, but the fight was encompassing them. Joly dialed the police, ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach, while Bossuet and Musichetta kept the remainder of the crowd safe.

When Enjolras would think back on that day in the future, all he would be able to remember was a blur. A blur of fists, and yells, and Eponine’s tearstained face saying, “I will never forgive you for this.”

Later that night, Grantaire drove Enjolras back from the hospital in silence. Everyone had been checked for their injuries, but those that were minor enough could go home. Enjolras had a bright yellow bruise blossoming on his cheek and Grantaire was sprouting a split lip, but nothing more. His friends were similarly damaged.

But Gavroche.

One of the images that stayed perfectly clear in Enjolras’s mind was the little boy lying in a hospital bed, tubes out of his nose and bruises all over his face and arms.

“What kind of monsters would beat a child senseless?” A nurse had muttered, shaking her head.

Eponine sat by his bedside, holding an icepack strapped to her head. “My parents won’t come, you know. I’ll stay with him.”

The amis were quickly rushed out of the hospital room, leaving room for “the family.”

“We are her family!” Grantaire had shouted, before stomping into the waiting room to wait.

When they were finally able to visit, they did so in pairs as to not overwhelm them. But when Enjolras approached with Grantaire, Eponine shook her head. “Nuh-uh. Get out.”

“Ep, I’m so sorry,” Enjolras pleaded, his heart breaking at the sight of the two siblings.

“GET. OUT!” she roared, and Grantaire took Enjolras’s hand and pulled him out of the room.

“Give me a sec,” he mumbled, and entered the room on his own. A moment later, he appeared back outside.

“She doesn’t want to see me, either. Says I’ll take your side,” Grantaire reported, laying his head in his hands.

“What side?” Enjolras said in disbelief. “No one came out on top with this. This is the LAST thing I wanted to happen…”

Grantaire pulled him into a tight hug. “I know, and she’ll see that, in time.”

Enjolras sank his head into his shoulder and held back a sob.

Combeferre soon appeared by their side, and he pushed his glasses up his nose anxiously. “Hey. Can I go see them?”

“Yeah, go on in,” Grantaire said, still holding Enjolras.

As Combeferre entered the room, they could still hear him, soft as he was, say, “You know he’s gonna be okay, Ep. The doctors said he’s just recovering from the broken rib.”

“I know what they said. That’s not the fucking point,” she snarled, and Enjolras took that as a sign to pull away from Grantaire and return to the waiting room.

“Can we go home?” he said suddenly, turning to Grantaire and stopping in the middle of the hallway. “I can’t face everything right now.”

Grantaire nodded. “I’ll text Jehan and let everyone know where we are.”

They bypassed the waiting room and made their way to the car, where they sat for a long hour.

Finally, Grantaire said, “Are they going to revoke our permit to protest there?”

“I don’t fucking care what they do,” Enjolras sighed. “I made a promise, and I broke it. Horribly.”

“Hey. It wasn’t your fault,” Grantaire said firmly, his gaze rotating from the road to his boyfriend. “It was those assholes’ faults. You couldn’t have predicted that they would be there, or that Gav, bless him, would egg them on.”

“Don’t say anything bad about him,” Enjolras muttered. “He’s just a kid.”

“And the bravest goddamn person I’ve ever met,” Grantaire countered.

He heard Enjolras sniff, and angrily brush at his eyes.

“Everything’s going to be fine. I promise,” Grantaire said, soft as a baby blanket.

Enjolras scoffed. “I don’t think I can ever use that word again.”

They made it back to Enjolras’s apartment without another word. As Grantaire was dropping his stuff by the front door, Enjolras darted to the bathroom and shut the door, mumbling something about needing another shower.

Grantaire pulled a beer from the fridge and eased himself onto the couch with a heavy sigh. His phone buzzed from his jean pocket, and he pulled it out. A second later, he heard the shower turn on.

_Jehan: Gav is up and talking. He’s pretty damn proud of himself. They’re going to keep him overnight, though_

_Grantaire: Thank god. How’s Ep?_

_Jehan: Not great. She won’t say, but I think she’s pretty upset that her parents aren’t here, even if she does despise them._

_Grantaire: I would be, too. What about everyone else?_

_Jehan: All fine, nothing more than a few bruises. Bahorel might have a fractured wrist, but he’ll be okay._

_Grantaire: Thanks. Keep me posted.  
_

_Jehan: Love you, R._

_Grantaire: You too._

Grantaire leaned back into the couch and closed his eyes. Almost an hour later, he opened them, and peered around the apartment curiously. The water was still running in the bathroom- unusual, for Enjolras was notorious for five-minute showers.

He got up and walked over to the bathroom door, knocking on it with his knuckles. “Enj? Are you alright?”

No answer. Grantaire pressed his ear to the door and heard, unmistakably, muffled sobbing.

That was all he needed. He opened the door and stepped over to the shower, taking hold of the curtain. “I’m coming in.”

Pulling the curtain away, he found the mighty Enjolras, sitting naked on the shower floor with his arms wrapped around his legs and his knees pulled to his torso, his golden head bowed. The man cried, his tears mixing with the steaming water of the shower.

Grantaire stepped into the shower, fully clothed, and knelt down behind Enjolras. He felt his clothes getting instantly wet, but couldn’t find any part of him that cared. He wrapped his arms around Enjolras and pulled his body towards his chest, holding him close so that his face was right near his ear. 

“R, you don’t have to comfort me,” Enjolras breathed, his face red.

Grantaire pressed a brief kiss to the back of his head. “I’m not. I’m going to do what my mother used to do for me. Well, not in this same context, but still.”

Enjolras let out a choked laugh, and snot burst out for his nose onto his wet face before being pushed down the drain.

Grantaire cleared his throat, and began singing softly, “ _I’ve heard there was a secret chord/ that David played, and it pleased the Lord/ But you don’t really care for music/ do you?”_

He sang, on the floor of the stall with the shower water beating onto them, holding the naked Enjolras to his t-shirt until his sobs slowly turned to cries, then silent tears streaming down his face.

_“But baby /I've been here before/I've seen this room /and I've walked this floor  
You know/ I used to live alone/ before I knew you.” _Grantaire stopped for a moment to let that phrase sink in.

“That’s my favorite line. Because all of us are here, mentally, where you are right now, or have been at one point in our lives. And before I knew you, I would cry alone. All the fucking time. But now you’re here, and I’m here, and that never has to happen again.”

Grantaire rested his head on Enjolras’s shoulder and continued singing the song to the drum of the shower’s rain.

When he finished, Enjolras turned around and wrapped his arms around his neck. “Thank you.”

After what felt like hours, they pulled away. “You’re so wet. I’m sorry,” Enjolras laughed uncertainly.

“Don’t apologize. But the water is getting cold- wanna dry off and have something to eat?”

Enjolras nodded, and the two stood up, still soaking wet in the shower. Before Enjolras went to turn the water off, he put his hands on the side of Grantaire’s face and kissed him deeply. When they separated, he rested his forehead on Grantaire’s and looked into his eyes.

“Even if something terrible happens in the future and we’re not together, I swear I will never, ever forget you doing this today. Thank you.”

Grantaire smiled, and pushed a dark curl out of Enjolras’s eyes. “Thank you for letting me in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Hallelujah" was by the great Leonard Cohen, and while my [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/4sbnzJlJ6p1QSY0Glp7mfF) has the Rufus Wainwright version, this chapter is obviously reminiscent of George Blagden's beautiful [cover.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aZMScOsHykQ)


	11. Not So Typical Love Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras and Grantaire move in together, and their future becomes a little clearer.

“But god I loved those days /we couldn't get out of bed  
Left your taste in my mouth/  
All your words in my head/

And now I wanna hear it again.” 

November 2020

“I’m putting on my fuzzy socks,” Grantaire declared. “I deserve it.”

Enjolras looked up from his book with an amused smile. “Why?”

“Why do I deserve it, or why am I putting them on?” Grantaire asked from where he was shuffling through the dresser drawer, to Enjolras relaxing on their bed.

“Both.”

“Well, my dear Apollo,” Grantaire said, pulling out a white, fluffy pair and sitting on the edge of the bed to pull one on, “tonight is the first night it’s hitting below thirty degrees, which is Fuzzy Sock Weather, in my opinion. Second, I just played a pretty spectacular gig- the third of the week, I might add- and I wrote two songs this morning.”

Enjolras shook his head. “I don’t know. That pair seems more like a Christmas morning and four gig week pair to me.”

“Is that sarcasm I detect?” Grantaire said, eyebrows raised. With both socks firmly on he scooted over to Enjolras and laid a head on his shoulder. “I’m hurt. You know how much winter wear means to me.”

“Yeah, right. You’ve had the same pair of gloves since 1998.”

“Well, now you know what to get me for Christmas then!” Grantaire retorted, and Enjolras laughed.

They lay together comfortably on Grantaire’s bed- no, THEIR bed- before Enjolras said, “What are your new songs about?”

“You, of course,” Grantaire replied, stretching his arms and laying them behind his head.

Enjolras gave him a look. “Really?”

“You’re all I’ve written about since we met, Apollo.”

“I’m sure Jehan and Eponine would rather sing about things other than me sometimes,” Enjolras said, a faint pinkness spreading over his cheeks.

Grantaire chuckled and kissed his cheek. “No need to blush, love. They write songs too, and we rotate which new ones we put in the setlist depending on what the audience likes. I’m pretty sure Parnasse wrote a song about being locked in Hot Topic, and he was adamant we put it in.”

Enjolras snorted and closed his book, setting it on the nightstand to the right of him. “Hopefully your audience will choose to disregard that particular number.”

“For real,” Grantaire nodded, and pulled the comforter over his legs.

Enjolras pulled the string on the lamp on the nightstand, and the room filled with darkness. He wrapped an arm around Grantaire and pulled him to his chest. “I love living with you.”

Grantaire smiled, even though Enjolras couldn’t see. “Me, too. I wish every day was just us in this bed.”

However, things would start to change less than a few months in.

December 2020

“R? Have you seen my paper?” Enjolras called, his tie undone and hanging as he raced through the apartment, pulling pillows off the couch and looking under the coffee table.

Grantaire emerged from the bathroom, brushing his teeth. “No, I haven’t,” he said, voice muffled. He walked back into the room to spit, then added, “What does it look like?”

Enjolras bit back a frustrated sigh. “It’s my final for my law class. I printed it out last night and left it around here somewhere, but it’s impossible to find anything with sheet music everywhere.”

“Sorry, inspiration struck in the night,” Grantaire shrugged, pulling papers from where they were scattered on the couch, floor, table, and kitchen counter. “Can you print it again?”

“I don’t have time.”

“Okay, well, when you find time, can you please put your laundry in the machine? I need my Barricade shirt clean and it’s too much to do two loads.” Grantaire said, pulling a jacket from off of the ground and throwing it into the bedroom.

“Fine, I’ll try,” Enjolras muttered, now heading to his desk in their bedroom. “For Christ’s sake, where is it?” 

Grantaire stopped by the coffeepot to refill his mug, and noticed an interesting looking document resting beside it. “Enj?”

“What?” he shouted, returning from the bedroom and looking on the verge of tears.

Grantaire wordlessly held up the paper.

Enjolras blinked, and then rushed forward and simultaneously kissed Grantaire and pulled the paper out of his hand. “You’re a lifesaver. I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now get to class!” Grantaire brushed some of Enjolras’s wild blond curls with his fingers in an attempt to calm them down. “I have work and a gig tonight, so I probably won’t see you till tomorrow.”

Enjolras frowned. “I feel like I never see you anymore.”

“And yet we’re at each other’s throats every day?” Grantaire shook his head. “Maybe moving in together was too much.”

Suddenly, Enjolras’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket and, while checking the time, his eyes widened. “Shit, I’m late. I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” He kissed Grantaire’s cheek and flew out the door, forgetting his beloved thermos of coffee and to properly tie his tie.

Grantaire shook his head. He pulled out his own phone and sent a text to Joly.

_**Am I married? I feel married.**_

**_And not in the fun, sexy way either. In the “my husband is always at work and I’m stuck raising the kids alone” way._ **

**_Although, I guess in this metaphorical situation, the kids are also me._ **

_**What do I do? I can’t quit the band, and he can’t quit school. Things will only get worse once he graduates, and if/when Barricade gets bigger.** _

_Boss and I have a similar scenario. For me in med school and him in culinary school, it’s a lot. We usually end up just studying together when our schedules align. Plus Chetta, who is always working crazy hours at the salon._

_The difference with us, though, is that Boss and I have been together since we were fourteen. We’ve learned how to live with and without each other. When Chetta came in, we had to learn again, but we were okay since we had that foundation._

_You and Enjolras don’t have a foundation, so you’re learning as you go. And that’s okay. Normal, even. You’ll make time to see each other, and you know it’s okay that you don’t always because you trust that you love each other. And if you don’t have that trust now, you will with time._

**_Thanks. Did you and Boss fight a lot when you first moved in together?_ **

_Well, we’d been having sleepovers since we were six, so probably not as much as a brand-new couple. We knew each other’s habits. But that didn’t mean (and doesn’t mean) it’s easy to get along in a small space._

_I know Marius and Cosette fought like crazy when they first moved in together._

_**Nuh-uh! Really??? The perfect couple?** _

_Yup. Cosette texted me the same things you’re texting me now. It’s different when you realize your partner is a human, and sometimes doesn’t lift the toilet seat up when he pisses at night._

**_Ew, Pontmercy._ **

_I know right. But they’re still as happy as can be. It just takes time. And personally, I believe that you and Enjolras will make this weird, beautiful thing you have work._

_**Joly, you are a gift to mankind.** _

_:)_ _Hang in there, R._

Grantaire set down his phone and started picking up his own papers and random instruments strewn around the apartment. The cup of water sitting in the sink was definitely from a painting he’d done… a week ago? Or two?

He shook his head, dumping it out and placing it in the dishwasher. “Lord help our future children,” he said out loud.

Suddenly, his world started to spin, and he had to lean back against the kitchen counter.

Children? Where the hell did that come from?

He and Enjolras had never talked about that before. They’d mentioned getting a cat someday, now that the highly allergic Eponine was now in Courfeyrac’s old room. They’d briefly discussed what they thought about their weddings- but not, THEIR wedding.

He rested a hand on his temple. How the hell would they rise a kid, with their busy lives? _And my tendency to get shitfaced,_ Grantaire thought, miserably. He pulled a beer out of the fridge.

“Wait a sec. We’re twenty-two. There’s no rush,” he said out loud again, feeling his heart rate slow. Then he imagined Enjolras smiling tenderly at a baby in his arms, and his heart rate picked up again.

Grantaire took a long sip from his bottle. _Lord, help me._

He ended up being correct about when he would next see Enjolras. It wasn’t until the following morning when Grantaire rolled over in bed and pressed a kiss to Enjolras’s shoulder.

“Hey.” Enjolras mumbled sleepily, rolling over. “Sorry I missed you last night. I tried to wait up, but I guess I fell asleep.”

“No worries, love,” Grantaire said, yawning. “I pretty much collapsed the minute I came in the door. The week finally caught up with me.”

“Ain’t that the truth. I’ve been so caught up with finals, I haven’t even begun to prepare for tonight’s meeting,” Enjolras groaned, rubbing his eyes.

Grantaire propped his head on his arm. “I’ve got a crazy idea.”

Enjolras tilted his head at him, eyes still bleary from sleep. “What?”

Grantaire thought his boyfriend looked like an angel in the late morning sunlight streaming from their windows but declined to comment on that. “We cancel tonight’s meeting- here me out, just till tomorrow,” he added, when Enjolras opened his mouth in protest.

“We cancel the meeting, call in sick to work and rehearsal, and spend the entire day here, in bed. We can sleep, fuck, talk, watch tv, study, whatever we want. But we’re staying right here.” Green eyes met blue. “What do you think?’

Enjolras sighed. “It’s horribly impractical,” he began, and Grantaire started nodding.

“You’re right, forget it-“ he said, but was silenced by Enjolras’s finger on his lips.

“I love it. Let’s have a staycation. God, I hate that word!” he said, and Grantaire laughed.

“You mean it?” he said, raising his eyebrows.

Enjolras took his phone from the charger and texted his boss and his friends, showing Grantaire the screen. When he was done, he dropped it behind the bedframe, and pulled his boyfriend close for a long kiss.

He laughed when they broke apart. “We smell disgusting. Did you shower when you got home?”

“No. That’s living together life, baby,” Grantaire said, acutely aware of how close he was to saying, “married life.”

Enjolras considered. “Is the bath similar enough to the bed? It’s warm and comforting.”

“I’ll allow it,” Grantaire decided, sitting up and pulling Enjolras by the hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Alfie's Song (Not So Typical Love Song)" is by a favorite, Bleachers. As always, here's the [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/4sbnzJlJ6p1QSY0Glp7mfF)


	12. Out on the Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The amis can't get ahold of Grantaire, and panic steadily grows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW- drinking/alcoholism. I also accidently posted the next chapter before this one, but it should be in the right order now.

“I drink a lot/I'm not sure if that's new  
But these days when I wake up/ from a night I forgot  
I just wish that it never came true.”

January 2021

“Hey, R. Me again. Give me a call back when you get this. Just wanna make sure you’re okay. I love you.”

“So I checked with Jehan in case your phone’s dead, but he doesn’t know where you are either. Can’t be too far after the gig, right? Anyway. Call me.”

“I don’t know how much more calling can do, but I can’t just sit here and do nothing. Jesus.”

Enjolras flung his phone beside him on the couch and sighed deeply. He laid his head in his hands and rubbed his face, trying to keep himself awake and calm himself down.

Cosette appeared from the kitchen with a mug of tea in her hand, and she knelt down and held it out to Enjolras. “Here, Enj.”

He moved his hands away from his face to take the drink and whisper “thank you.”

She sat down next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure he’s fine. The band is scouring the area around the club again, and apparently Eponine has been calling him almost as often as you. It’s only been a couple of hours, though.”

“I know, I know. He’s just usually home by now…” Enjolras said, staring at the steam coming out from his mug. Cosette had picked a mug that Grantaire usually used, a white one that had the words, “art is the weapon” splattered on it.

Cosette rubbed his arm. “Maybe his phone’s dead and he got on the wrong bus. You never know. Try not to worry, okay?”

Enjolras scoffed, but leaned into her side and allowed his friend to wrap her arms around him. “You didn’t have to stay, you know. But I appreciate that you did.”

“Of course. I know you’d do the same for me if it were the other way around.”

Enjolras nodded. His mind drifted to earlier in the night, when everyone was pacing in his and Grantaire’s apartment. Combeferre, Eponine (who briefly got over how angry she still was at Enjolras to focus on her anger towards Grantaire), Jehan, Courfeyrac, Marius, Cosette, Feuilly (who left the second he was able to leave the club and arrived out of breath, a microphone still strapped to his belt), Bahorel, Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta all sat and stood in various areas, conspiring about where their friend had been since the gig ended at midnight.

“It’s only one-thirty. He’s probably still out at the Corinthe,” Bahorel suggested, reminding everyone of the local bar they frequented.

“By himself?” Bossuet said. “He hasn’t done that since… in a long time.”

“Has anyone checked with Parnasse?” Eponine asked, holding her phone to her ear to make yet another call.

“I will,” Jehan offered, and he sent a text. When he groaned loudly a few seconds later, everyone startled and Enjolras jumped to his feet.

“What is it? Is he okay?”

“Montparnasse typed back, “Don’t talk to me unless you want to hook up.’” Jehan dropped his phone onto his pleather pants in annoyance.

Enjolras dropped back onto the couch. “I hate that guy.”

Courfeyrac nodded fervently. “You’d think he’d do something useful if he knew how worried we were.”

“Monty has never done anything useful in his life, except for occasionally playing a decent drum track,” Eponine informed them. She then yelled into the phone, “Taire, I swear to God, pick up or I will toss your limp body into the sewers.”

“Remind me to never get on Ep’s bad side,” Courfeyrac muttered.

After a few more unanswered calls from Eponine, Enjolras, Joly, and Jehan and an hour of anxious pacing and chatter, Cosette took charge.

“Alright everyone,” she said, hopping off the kitchen counter from where she was seated, Marius leaning beside her. “It’s 3 AM. Nothing is going to be accomplished by just sitting here. Barricade, you guys can go back to the club one last time and check the area. Say you forgot an amp, or something. Feuilly and Bahorel can come with you.”

They nodded. Marius looked at her in a kind of awe.

“Everyone else, please go home and get to sleep,” she pleaded, clasping her hands. At the room’s roar of protest, she added, “Keep your ringtones on just in case! But all of us have school or work tomorrow. If there’s any news, we’ll find out through the grapevine. I’m sure he’ll be back by the morning with some lame apology.”

“I am going to punch him so hard,” Eponine grumbled.

“What if he’s not here tomorrow morning?” Enjolras asked, his voice breaking. “What do we do then?”

“Then we file a missing person’s report,” Cosette answered promptly. “We’d still have to wait twenty-four hours, though, and there’s plenty of time before it comes to that.”

Enjolras blew air out of his nose and closed his eyes. On opposite sides of him on the couch, Combeferre and Courfeyrac wordlessly wrapped their arms around his shoulders.

“Okay?” Cosette said to the room, and the group began finding their coats and pulling them on.

“Do you want us to stay here?” Combeferre asked Enjolras as he stood up.

He shook his head. “No, go home and get some sleep. I know you have a ton to do tomorrow.”

Combeferre leaned over to give his best friend a quick hug. “Keep us updated.”

“Will do.”

Courfeyrac, still seated, gave him a longer and tighter hug.

“I’m good, Courf, really,” Enjolras said, amidst his friend’s grasp.

“I just want to make sure,” Courfeyrac sighed, pulling away. “I know how you get.”

“I’m fine. Go home and get some sleep.”

Courfeyrac’s face tightened in worry, but he stood up and allowed Jehan to take his hand. “Everyone’s phones will be on full volume, capisce?”

“Of course,” Musichetta said from behind him, Joly and Bossuet in tow. “We’ll all come back together as soon as there’s any news.”

As the group began to exit, Eponine turned around and took a seat next to Enjolras.

He looked at her, and found a twin in her weary eyes.

"Enj... we're okay," she said finally.

He wordlessly laid an arm around her shoulders, and they sat together quietly for a few moments before she got up to leave.

One after another, everyone exited the apartment, until Marius was left holding the door. “You ready, hun?”

Cosette stepped towards him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “You go on ahead. I’m gonna stay and keep Enjolras company.”

“You don’t-“ Enjolras started, but he was quickly shushed by Cosette.

“Okay," Marius nodded. "Text me when you leave. Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

He kissed her again and then left, leaving Cosette by the door and Enjolras still slumped on the couch.

Cosette looked around the room and said, “Do you have any teabags?”

“We should. Check the cabinet above the stove.”

She left the living room, and Enjolras pulled out his phone to try calling Grantaire again.

In the present, Enjolras was jolted from his recollections of the evening by the sound of a key being pressed clumsily into the front door lock. He and Cosette immediately turned towards the door, their breaths hitched and eyes wide.

The door opened and in stumbled Grantaire, his eyes red and clothes reeking.

The three of them stared in silence for only a moment, when Cosette stood and rushed to give him a hug. “Oh, thank god, R. We were so worried!”

He briefly hugged her back, then laughed oddly. “Wait, why?”

“What do you mean, ‘why’?” Enjolras said, standing up. “You’ve been gone for hours. We’ve been worried half to death. I thought you were dead in a ditch or something.”

Grantaire scoffed. “I was just at a bar with ‘Parnasse, Apollllllo. I’m fine.”

“Not the Corinthe?” Cosette asked, eyebrows raised.

“No, somewhere off 75.”

But Enjolras had another thought. “You were with Montparnasse? We checked with him and he wouldn’t tell us anything!”

Grantaire laughed again. “Oh, yeah, his reply was hysterical.”

“It wasn’t,” Cosette said seriously. “It would have saved us a lot of worry if he had just said he was with you.”

“Why didn’t you pick up our calls, anyway? I must have called a thousand times," Enjorlas asked, starting to feel hurt and anger override his relief at having Grantaire home.

“I don’t know, my phone’s dead. Why are you all attacking me, anyway? I’m a grown man, for fuck’s sake. I don’t have to always tell the world my whereabouts,” Grantaire said, heading to the kitchen to reach for the box o wine on the counter.

Enjolras and Cosette followed him, arms folded. “Oh, shit, I have to tell everyone you’re okay,” Cosette exclaimed, pulling her phone out of her pocket to send a group text.

Enjolras stood by the wine. “Are you sure you need more?”

“Okay, mom,” Grantaire mocked, taking a swig from his glass.

“What’s gotten into you? You know how much we care about you. We’re not asking for your exact whereabouts, but a simple call back would have been nice,” Enjolras said, staring intently at the man he loved.

Grantaire sighed deeply, letting his breath assault the other two. “Do you want me to apologize? Fine, I’m sorry.”

“Eponine says she’s going to kill you,” Cosette reported, reading the message on her phone.

“Lord help me,” Grantaire said dramatically, raising his arm in the air.

“Whatever. I’m going to bed. We’ll discuss this in the morning,” Enjolras said flatly, taking a few steps out of the room.

“How did you get home, R? Did Montparnasse drive you?” Cosette asked.

“Nah, he was too hammered. Uber.”

She nodded, then sent another text, presumably to Marius. “Well, now that you’re home safe, I’m going to head out. Don’t ever do that again.” She said the last sentence with a certain ferocity that made Grantaire cower slightly.

“Ok. Drive safe.”

She nodded, and made her leave.

Grantaire turned and followed Enjolras into their bedroom, where he was getting ready for bed with a pointed silence.

“C’mon, love, it’s not a big deal,” Grantaire started, reaching out to touch Enjolras’s shoulder.

“Not a big deal?” Enjolras snapped. “You make us worry for hours and don’t give a shit. That’s a big deal.”

“You know I’ll always come home, right? This is where I wanna be, more than anything.”

“You’re not even making sense,” Enjolras interrupted. “And I don’t want to talk to you when you’re like this.”

“Like what? Myself?” Grantaire raised his voice. “Sorry I’m not good enough for your hoity-toity world. I never was.”

“That’s not what I said, and you know it!” Enjolras threw his button-up shirt onto the ground after pulling on a tee.

“Me coming home drunk is going to happen! It happens a lot, actually! You only care now because it affected your plan,” Grantaire said, gesturing to Enjolras with his free hand.

“My _what?”_

“Your… you know, schedule for your day. If I had been out while you were working you wouldn’t have cared at all.”

“Do you do that a lot?” Enjolras asked, a note of concern creeping in his anger.

“Not as much as I used to. Believe it or not, I actually like being with you.”

“Then why the hell did you do this tonight?!” Enjolras screamed, pulling at his curls in frustration. “If you like being with me, why would you make me worry, and spend time with _Montparnasse_ of all people?”

“Aha! So that’s what this is about,” Grantaire accused, setting his drink on the nightstand.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re jealous I went out with Monty. You wouldn’t give a shit if I was out with Eponine.”

“No, because Eponine would text me back and say you were with her so I wouldn’t think you were dead,” Enjolras said. Then he added, “You know I hate that guy.”

“And I’m supposed to follow blindly along with everything you think? I just wanted a few hours outside of everything, that’s all. Life has been a lot,” Grantaire said, sitting on the bed and laying a hand on his temple.

“That’s fine, but for Christ’s sake the least you can do is tell me that you’re okay. We’re supposed to be partners,” Enjolras said, the hurt coming out fully-fledged this time.

Grantaire scoffed. “I can’t do anything without you judging me.”

“You know that’s not true. That’s the wine talking.”

“You’re judging me right now!”

“Yeah, I am! Because you came home at four in the fucking morning drunk off your ass without telling your best friends and _love of your life_ where you were! Do we not mean anything to you?” Enjolras’s voice broke.

Grantaire just looked at him, seemingly oblivious to Enjolras’s emotion. “You’re everything to me.”

“Fucking show it, then.”

“Do you want a grand declaration? A legal document stating I’ll never do anything that’ll ever piss you off again?” He stood up. “Do you want me to scream it from the rafters?”

“I want you to not drink so much that it changes you from the man I love and trust,” Enjolras said finally.

Grantaire took a step back. “Oh, so now you don’t trust me? Or love me? What happened to forever and always?”

“Of course I love you. I just don’t like who you are right now.”

“This is who I am, Enj.” Grantaire gestured to himself, his clothes wrinkled and beard scratchy. “This is who you get. If you don’t like it, why stay?”

“But I know this isn’t who you are. My Grantaire would never make his friends worry about him. Imagine if I had done that to you! You’ve said you worry about me getting hurt,” Enjolras reminded him.

Grantaire sighed. “I see you getting killed at a political rally, and I’d have to see your fucking face with angel wings plastered on every tv screen in the country. I see you dying for a cause and the world mourning. Me?” he scoffed. “I see myself rolling over one day and choking on my own vomit. Maybe you guys would be sad for a while, but you’d get over it. I know you would.”

Tears blurred Enjolras’s vision, and this time he didn’t bother to wipe them away. “I can’t believe that’s what you think of us,” he whispered. “I just can’t.”

He walked over to the side of the bed where Grantaire was and sat down. “But it’s not my job to make you stop hating yourself. I can tell you I love you with all the air I breathe, but it means nothing if you still do this to yourself. And to say we don’t care-“ he stopped. “Maybe we don’t know each other as well as I thought.”

Grantaire sat down next to him. “I don’t know what to say.”

Enjolras didn’t respond, and they sat in silence for a few moments. Finally, Enjolras stood up.

“I’m going to sleep in the living room. Goodnight.”

And he left the bedroom, without another word, a kiss, or even a sparing glance.

Grantaire let out a loud sigh and laid his head in his hands. “This is such bullshit.”

He picked up his drink and finished it, then changed his clothes and fell into an uneasy sleep, alone, in their bed.

He woke up some time later, unsure of exactly when. He picked up his phone from the nightstand and, upon plugging it into the charger saw that, not only was it 1:30 pm, he had about a hundred missed calls and four thousand texts.

He groaned and turned his phone off. He’d deal with the aftermath of whatever he did later.

Grantaire rolled over, expecting not to see Enjolras (he should be long gone, in class) but wanting to feel the warmth that his body usually left sunk in the mattress and pillow. But when he laid his head in his boyfriend’s spot, he felt only cold air.

He scratched his head and sat up. Was Enjolras not home last night?

He forced himself out of bed and moped into the kitchen towards the coffee pot. As it started brewing, a soft “hey” made him jump.

Grantaire turned and saw Enjolras, dressed for the day and sitting on the couch as if he had been waiting for him.

“Hey. What are you doing home? Did your class get canceled?” Grantaire asked, turning back and searching for his favorite mug in the cabinet. When he couldn’t find it, he grabbed a pottery one that Jehan had made him instead.

“No, I skipped,” Enjolras said, folding his hands together. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Grantaire raised his eyebrows. “Skipping’s not like you. What’s going on? Is something wrong?”

Enjolras gave him an odd look. “Don’t you… I wanted to talk about last night, and I didn’t want to wait. I wasn’t sure of what your schedule was for tonight.”

“Last night…” Grantaire wracked his brain. He remembered the gig. He remembered deciding to grab a drink with Montparnasse. After that, it became… fuzzy.

“Do you remember?” Enjolras asked, brows furrowed.

Grantaire shook his head slowly. “It’s very blurry. But judging by your tone, I’m guessing I fucked up.”

Enjolras sighed, and picked up his phone from the coffee table. “I’m not insisting you do anything- you’re a grown man, and it’s your choice, at least until it becomes dangerous. But I was wondering if you’ve ever thought about AA meetings?”

Grantaire picked up the coffee pot and poured some of the drink into his mug. “Not really. It seemed very preachy to me. Why?”

Enjolras looked at him with a pained expression. “Grantaire, no one could get a hold of you last night. I was terrified. And then you came home drunk and belligerent and said some… out of character things. Or maybe it was totally in character, I don’t know.” He slouched a little in his spot. “I have no idea anymore.”

Grantaire made his way over to the couch with his mug and sat down. “Did I hurt you?”

“A little,” Enjolras admitted. “You seemed to think that we wouldn’t care at all if you died, and that we were overreacting for being worried about you. And you said that was who you really were.”

“Well, I can’t confirm or deny that, because drunk R and sober R don’t tend to interact,” Grantaire said, wincing as the pounding of his hangover began. “But I know you guys love me.”

“Do you?” Enjolras asked, his eyes blurring again. “Because, my god, last night was a nightmare.”

Grantaire noticed suddenly how sunken Enjolras’s eyes were, as if he hadn’t truly slept in days. He took his hand and squeezed it.

“I am so sorry,” he said. “Really, I am. If I could kick my own ass for making my favorite person in the world feel like that…” he shook his head in disgust.

“I think we should also try some couple’s therapy,” Enjolras continued. At Grantaire’s pointed look, he added, “Some issues came up last night that have come up before, and they have yet to be resolved. I really want to make this work.”

Grantaire hung his head. “I wish I knew what I did to you. But at the same time, it must have been pretty damn awful based on the way you’re looking at me now.”

He kissed Enjolras’s forehead. “I promise I’ll do whatever I can to make this better.”

Enjolras nodded. Then he said, “You’re going to have to face the wrath of Eponine next, then everyone else. They might be harder to turn around than me.”

Grantaire nodded. “Everyone was really worried about me?”

“The entire group was here until two in the morning, and Cosette stayed until you got home. So yeah, I would say so,” Enjolras said, a little peevishly.

Grantaire gulped. “You know I don’t deserve you guys.”

Enjolras chuckled, then became serious again. “Last night, you said we were sometimes too much for you.”

Grantaire considered. “It is a lot. I would never give it up, but you guys do overwhelm me sometimes, in all the best ways.”

Enjolras pursed his lips. “Yeah, we’re going to have to go over that in therapy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Out on the Town" is by Fun., whom I miss so much! And don't worry- the next chapter is fun (no pun intended) and, much lighter. [Playlist here!](https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/4sbnzJlJ6p1QSY0Glp7mfF)


	13. Rollercoaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The amis take a trip to Hershey Park!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW- slight homophobia.

“It was summer when I saw your face/  
Looked like a teenage runaway/  
Oh god /I never thought we'd take it that far/  
Some killer queen you are.”

June 2021

Not even a week after graduation, Enjolras received a text in the groupchat from Courfeyrac.

_We need to do something FUN together in celebration of graduation! Any ideas??_

“I don’t know about him, but I was just in the middle of doing something ‘fun’,” Grantaire teased, leaning over in bed to nibble on Enjolras’s bare shoulder from behind.

Enjolras swatted him with his free hand, but his face was flushed with an embarrassed sort of delight. “Stop, I’m trying to write him back.”

This, of course, was the wrong thing to say to Grantaire, who instead wrapped his arm around Enjolras’s torso and began trailing kisses down his neck as the other man tried to send a message on his phone.

_I’m fine with anything, really._

“Which is why you’re here with me, of all people,” Grantaire said, peering over Enjolras’s shoulder at his text.

Enjolras dropped his phone on the nightstand and rolled over towards Grantaire, tangling their naked selves together in the sheets. “I’d choose to be with you over everyone.”

He leaned forward to kiss Grantaire deeply, his damp blonde curls intertwining with Grantaire’s dark locks when they heard his phone buzz again loudly on the nightstand.

Grantaire let out a sigh of frustration as they pulled apart and Enjolras reached for his phone again.

“Can’t I just have you, for now?” he pleaded, flopping onto his pillow dramatically.

Enjolras chuckled. “You’ve had me all to yourself all day and all last night. I think I need to make some contact with the outside world.”

“Outside world is overrated,” Grantaire muttered, then sat up to read over Enjolras’s shoulder again.

Cosette: _We could go out to dinner?_

Courf: _Hmm, not special enough. We do that all the time._

Cosette: _Yeah, but like, a nice dinner._

Eponine: _I have 0 dollars, so I’d have to pass unless Enj is paying for all of us. (It is your birthday soon, right?? And that’s a thing rich people do on their birthdays?)_

Enjolras: _Sorry, studying abroad was a hefty addition to my tuition payments. And I wouldn’t know what rich people do on their birthdays._

Grantaire: _Bourgeoise_

Enjolras: _take that back_

Enjolras looked behind him at Grantaire, smirking at his phone. “Have you had your phone this whole time?”

“Nah, it fell under the bed when you yanked my pants off,” Grantaire replied cheerfully.

“Why bother roasting me in the groupchat when I’m right here?” Enjolras asked, unsure of how to react.

“I live for the reactions of others.”

Courfeyrac: _BURN! And Ep’s right, combining it with his bday is a great idea!!_

Courfeyrac: _Okay, so no dinner, anything else??_

Grantaire tapped Enjolras on the shoulder, and the other man looked at him with an amused smile. “What?”

“Can I put an innuendo in the groupchat?” Grantaire said, his eyebrows waggling.

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“I was just gonna say, ‘yall WISH you were having as much fun with him as I am right now,’” Grantaire said. “Besides, everyone knows we’re doing it, anyway.”

Enjolras bit his lip in thought, and Grantaire almost instantly propelled his face forward to kiss him. “Don’t ever do that again. It’s too much for me.”

Enjolras simpered, then said, “Fine, go ahead and send that text.”

Grantaire: _yall WISH you were having as much fun with him as I am right now_

Eponine: _ew. Please let me live in peace._

Bahorel: _You know what, respect._

Courfeyrac: _Part of me wants to scream “yasss get it!” but the other part was best friends with Enjolras in middle school, which makes this difficult._

Jehan: _I’m team “get it”_

Marius: _Get what???_

Grantaire laughed. “Does Marius know what’s going on, like, at any given moment?”

Enjolras shook his head. “Not usually.”

“God bless him.”

Courfeyrac: _I’ll explain it to you when you’re older, Mar._

Joly: _Jokes aside, the three of us would be glad to host a party!_

Bossuet: _(get it, r)_

Enjolras: _Okay, can we stop with that, please? And thank you, Joly!_

Courfeyrac: _A party is better, but still not special enough._

Combeferre: _Here’s a wild idea. How about we ask Enjolras what he wants to do?_

Grantaire: _ME ayooooo_

Enjolras picked up his pillow and began whacking Grantaire with it, and the other man held up his hands in protest, laughing gleefully.

“You can’t hide from the truth, Apollo!”

Enjolras let out an exaggerated sigh. “What am I going to do with you?” He then returned to his phone and typed,

_Lord. And seriously, I don’t need anything. I’m just happy to be finished with school so I can spend more time with you guys._

Cosette: _Aw, me too!_

Eponine: _Assuming R is with you, will you hit him for me, please?_

Courfeyrac: _Kinky._

Eponine: _nO_

Grantaire: _He hit me with a pillow like forty times. Make of that what you will._

Feuilly: _Sorry to just pop in now (work) but I saw somewhere on the university’s website about how they’re selling discounted tickets to Hershey park if we wanted to do something like that?_

Enjolras: _No worries!_

Bahorel: _Feuilly you are an angel and we are thrilled to have you here_

Courfeyrac: _WAIT THAT’S A BRILLIANT IDEA_

Courfeyrac: _How much???_

Feuilly: _I think like $33 a person?_

Courfeyrac: _I can afford that! Anyone else??_

Eponine: _I will begrudgingly say I can afford that. Someone else is buying my hotdog, though._

Jehan: _I gotcha, Ep. I’m in._

Joly: _Me too!!_

Joly: _And that includes Boss and Chetta as well, who are telling me to type for them._

Combeferre: _Enj, are you cool with this?_

Enjolras: _Sure, if that’s what you guys want to do._

Combeferre: _So we’re just not going to mention how much you loathe rollercoasters._

Enjolras: _There are other things to do besides ride the rides._

Bahorel: _Yeah, like play rigged games and buy grossly overpriced chocolate._

Bahorel: _Two things I excel at._

Grantaire and Enjolras were now laying shoulder to shoulder in bed, each on their respective phone.

Grantaire tilted his head at Enjolras. “I didn’t know you hated rollercoasters.”

Enjolras shrugged, still staring at his phone. “They’re not my favorite, but it’s not a big deal.”

“How come you hate them?’

Enjolras blew air out of his nose. “I may have gone to Hershey with Ferre and Courf in middle school, and thrown up on the Storm Chaser.”

Grantaire hooted. “Oh, no.”

Enjolras nodded gravely. “Yup. I’d just eaten an entire stick of cotton candy- which I still can’t tolerate, to this day- and they convinced me to come on the ride with them anyway.”

Grantaire pressed a kiss to Enjolras’s cheek. “Poor fetus Enj.”

“I just hope we never uncover the picture from it. I’m literally covered in vomit, and Ferre is just sitting there squinting at me because he had to take his glasses off for the ride.”

“Oh, now I simply must find that picture,” Grantaire declared with a large grin. “I can see it now, but I’m sure my imagination doesn’t do it justice.”

Cosette: _Enj, we can do something else if you don’t want to. Remember, it’s partly your day._

Courfeyrac: _Don’t listen to her kindness. This is a great idea. And a bunch of us graduated! This is a big deal!_

Courfeyrac: _WE SHOULD GET MATCHING TEE SHIRTS_

Joly: _Isn’t that more of a Disney World thing?_

Courfeyrac: _It’s an everyday thing if you try hard enough._

Jehan: _Also, we should totally go to Disney someday._

Combeferre: _Aren’t we fundamentally opposed to the Disney company?_

Jehan: _Yeah, but the Mickey ears and castle aesthetic is too good to pass up._

Cosette: _Agreed. When I went with papa when I was little, I cried happy tears the whole time._

Eponine: _So what I’m hearing is, we’re a) going to celebrate Enjolras’s birthday and yall’s graduation in a place Enjolras doesn’t like in matching tee shirts, and b) giving all of our hard-earned money to a billion-dollar corporation in a couple years??_

Courfeyrac: _Exactly._

Enjolras groaned and hit his head against the pillow. “I guess this is happening, then.”

“You know, you could suggest something else. I’m sure everyone would be fine with that,” Grantaire suggested, stroking Enjolras’s curls with his finger.

“Clearly you don’t know Courf as well as I do. He’s gonna kidnap me and throw me in a van with nothing but sunscreen, a tacky shirt, and the discounted ticket.”

“I’ll rescue you.”

“No, you’ll be getting kidnapped too.”

“Then it looks like the amis are going to Hershey,” Grantaire said with a laugh. “I’ll have to check Barricade’s schedule to see when we’re free.”

“Courf will have done that,” Enjolras sighed. “The man can’t plan when to do laundry or clean the bathroom, but damn if he can put together a party.”

“Neither can you, I’m told,” Grantaire teased. “Was Ferre the only one with the braincell in your apartment?”

“When it comes to that kind of stuff? Absolutely.”

Enjolras and Grantaire each heard their phones buzzing again, but neglected to pick them up.

“What do you say we ignore the Hershey thing until later, and pick up where we left off earlier?” Grantaire said, wrapping an arm around Enjolras’s middle.

Enjolras gave him a look. “You know we can’t just lie around in bed all day, right?”

“Not with that attitude,” Grantaire whispered, and peppered kisses across Enjolras’s face until the other man broke.

“Fine,” he said, tangling his fingers in Grantaire’s hair and pulling them as close together as they could be. “You’re a bad influence, you know.”

Grantaire grinned, wrapping his legs around Enjolras’s. “What can I say? You inspire me.”

“I can’t tell if that’s supposed to be romantic or dirty.”

“Can’t a man have both?”

Enjolras merely bit Grantaire’s lip in response.

August 2021

Considering how difficult it was to plan around thirteen people’s different schedules, the fact that they found a Saturday in late August with no gigs or protests and the availability to take off work was kind of astounding. Never mind that it was almost two months after Courfeyrac originally made the suggestion.

“Guys, I am so ready!” Courfeyrac said, beaming, from the driver’s seat of the fifteen-person van he’d rented. He was clad in a visor, sunglasses, and a white tank top that read “ABC Hershey Trip 2021” on the front, and “Enjolras for president 2032” on the back, much to his friend’s chagrin. Jehan was beside him in the passenger’s seat, only with a pink tank and flowery sunglasses. His pale hair was down in its usual braid, compared to Courfeyrac’s dark manbun that only Courf can pull off.

Grantaire rolled his eyes fondly at his friend from the seat behind him. His tank was dark green, and he’d gamely given up his usual beanie for a snapback.

Enjolras opened the car door and hopped in beside Grantaire. “I can’t believe you guys talked me into this.”

“What, Hershey?” Grantaire asked.

“No. This shirt!” Enjolras said, pulling at the fabric.

Even though Enjolras looked beautiful in red, the color did nothing for his blushing face. “I hate having my own name on the back. It’s so tacky.”

“Technically, no one but us knows it’s your name, so you should be fine in public,” Grantaire pointed out, gulping just a little at how Enjolras’s (pasty) arms looked in his tank, and his blonde curls pulled into a short ponytail like Orlando Bloom in the first _Pirates_ movie. Then, he noticed the large backpack sitting at Enjolras’s feet. “Whoa. Planning on moving into the park when we get there?”

Enjolras gave him a look. “I just want to be prepared. There’s a first aid kit, sunscreen, a jacket-“

“It’s ninety degrees, E.”

“He’s right, though!” Joly, in a dark blue tank, called from the very back row of the van, where he was stationed with Bossuet and Musichetta. “If anyone needs it, I have chargers for androids and iPhones, deodorant, tissues-“

“And I’ve got ibuprofen, aspirin, and Pepto bismal!” Musichetta added, shaking her drawstring bag and looking stunning in a yellow tank, her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail.

“And I’ve got the waters, so we don’t have to pay a ridiculous price for them!” Bossuet added cheerfully in his orange tank, pointing to a cooler at his feet.

“Can we get a round of applause for JBM, please?” Bahorel hollered from two rows ahead, next to Feuilly and Eponine.

Naturally, the van cheered.

Baz looked, in Feuilly’s humble opinion, unbearably attractive in a purple tank that barely seemed to contain his muscles. It should be noted, however, that Bahorel thought the same about Feuilly in his light grey one. He could see freckles he didn’t even know he had.

“Remind me why we didn’t all just get one or two colors for the shirts, Courf?” Enjolras asked, looking around at his friends.

“Because each of us is our own individual person!” he replied passionately. “We have our own hopes, and dreams, and fears-“

“We’re a fuckin’ rainbow, is what we are,” Grantaire interrupted with a cheeky smile.

“Damn straight!” Courfeyrac said, and gave Jehan a quick peck on the cheek. He turned around again in the driver’s seat and added, “Is everyone here and ready to go?”

“Yes!” Cosette called from the second to last row, looking like Cinderella in her pastel blue tank and French braid.

Marius, looking painfully pale in his neon green top, snapped out of staring at his girlfriend for a moment to say, “Wait, Courf, I have to pee.”

Eponine snorted and whacked the back of Grantaire’s head from behind. “We’ve been sitting here for twenty minutes and now he decides to go?”

“There are only three braincells in this van, Ponine, and Marius just doesn’t have one right now. Cut him some slack,” Grantaire teased, and Eponine fell back in her seat with a laugh.

“I see you really branched out with your wardrobe,” Grantaire added, eyeing Eponine’s black tank.

She stuck her tongue out at him. “At least I don’t look like fucking Christmas, like SOME people.”

Combeferre, on the right of Enjolras and Grantaire, stifled a laugh. He was not a tank top guy by any means- about as much as Enjolras, in fact- but he’d pulled on the dark gray shirt to support his two best friends.

Marius, at that moment, hopped back into the van, breathing heavily and slamming the door shut behind him. “Okay, now I’m ready!”

“WOO!” Courfeyrac screamed, and everyone joined in until he said, “Hang on one sec, I’m trying to hear the GPS.”

For the first hour, the ride was relatively quiet, or as quiet as thirteen twenty-somethings can be. They chatted amongst themselves, planning what rides to get on first and arguing about how much money to spend on chocolate.

“Wild mouse first. It’s tradition!” Bahorel argued lightheartedly with Feuilly and Eponine.

“No way. Skyrush,” Feuilly said, shaking his head. “It gets the most crowded.”

“You’re both wrong,” Eponine jumped in. “The answer is obviously Great Bear.”

The other two thought for a second, then nodded their agreement.

“She’s right,” Bahorel admitted. “Have you been here a lot? Feuilly and I used to go in high school.”

“Oh yeah, we abandoned the other football players to ride Comet a second time during dinner,” Feuilly recalled with a laugh.

Eponine glanced at the carpeted floor of the van. “My dad used to take my brother and sister and me,” she said, pulling at a loose string on her shorts.

“Aw, that must have been nice,” Bahorel said.

Overhearing this, Grantaire turned around in his seat. “Nuh-uh. If I know Mr. Thernadier, I know he found a way to be a dick.”

“Starting when I was about eight, he’d put me in charge of Gav and Azelma, and he’d sell knock-off merchandise in the parking lot while we rode the rides,” Eponine continued. “I didn’t mind. He’d get cheap tickets through work, and we’d get a fun day to ourselves.”

They were quiet for a moment, then Bahorel said, “So are we making funny poses on the rides, or what?”

In the very back of the van, Joly, Musichetta, and Cosette were trying to convince Bossuet not to spend all of his cash on chocolate.

“Remember what happened at Halloween?” Joly asked, folding his arms.

Bossuet furrowed his brow. “No?”

“You ate your entire bag of candy in one night, and then you were sick for the rest of the week.”

“We were ten!” Bossuet protested, and Musichetta and Cosette howled with laughter.

“Oh, god, I can see it now,” Musichetta said gleefully.

“What were we that year, again?” Bossuet asked.

“Two of the teenage mutant ninja turtles.”

“Oh, yeah!” Bossuet recalled. “I threw up in my mask, and then I cried because your mom made me throw it away.”

“So don’t you see why it’s a bad idea to buy two hundred dollars’ worth of chocolate?” Joly said.

“I don’t!” Marius piped up, and the other four looked at him. “What? He’s a grown man, he earned his money, and he won’t eat it all in the car like he would have as a kid.”

“Thank you, Mar, but there’s a very serious possibility that I’m going to eat it all in the car on the way home,” Bossuet laughed.

Back at the front, Combeferre and Grantaire were trying to convince Enjolras that there may be some rides he wouldn't hate.

“There’s no point in spending money on the ticket if you’re not going to do anything, love,” Grantaire said. “A lot of them are for kids, so you won’t get sick.”

“I don’t mind spending the money to have a memorable day with my friends.”

“Oh, stop,” Combeferre said. “We are not going to let you be miserable today.”

“I won’t be miserable!” Enjolras protested. “Seriously. I love seeing you guys happy. So I’ll hold all your crap while you ride stuff, and we’ll take pictures after or something.”

“Okay, mom,” Grantaire deadpanned, and Enjolras elbowed him playfully.

“Honestly, I’m not the biggest fan of rides either, Enj,” Jehan said, turning around from the passenger seat. “So I’ll be glad to hang out with you while everyone else is riding. Maybe we can watch one of the shows, or people-watch.”

Enjolras smiled gratefully at his friend. “I’d like that.”

Courfeyrac gasped suddenly, and Jehan quickly turned back around. “What is it? Are you okay?”

“There’s the first billboard for the park! It’s only thirty miles away!” he squealed.

Jehan pressed a hand to his swiftly beating heart. “Please refrain from the sudden noises while driving, hun.”

“Sorry, mi amor,” Courfeyrac replied cheerfully, looking ahead at the road for more signs.

At that point, Eponine was able to finally connect her Spotify with the car’s Bluetooth, and the speakers of the van exploded with ABBA, which she knew everyone liked- even, though she’d never admit it, herself.

Enjolras laid his head on Grantaire’s shoulder as his friends began exuberantly singing along to “Dancing Queen.”

“Are you ready for this?” Grantaire whispered into Enjolras’s ear under the pounding music.

“You know me. I never stand back from a challenge,” Enjolras replied jauntily, and Grantaire laughed and kissed his forehead.

“Reason number eight billion why I love you.”

They made it through almost all of ABBA’s greatest hits album when Courfeyrac clapped his hands on the steering wheel. “There it is! There’s Hershey!”

“That’s actually a parking lot-“ Grantaire started, but Enjolras shushed him.

“Let the man be excited.”

“I hope you guys know that we are not at all prepared to go to Disney together, if the current excitement level for Hershey is any indication,” Combeferre laughed fondly.

“Hey, don’t shit on Hershey!” Bahorel shouted, right as Courfeyrac rolled the window down to pay the parking attendant.

They paid and parked the obscenely large van as quickly as possible (making many jokes about Courfeyrac’s parking in the process) before hopping out into the morning sun, pulling on sunglasses and tightening ponytails.

“Everyone put on some sunscreen, or so help me god, I will not let you through the gates!” Joly announced, waving his can of spray in the air.

“He’s just like Gandalf,” Grantaire said, which of course made Joly let out a snorting laugh.

Once they were sprayed enough for Joly’s liking, the gang made their way to the front of the park, where there was a large sign with its name resting on a hillside.

“Stop! We’re taking a picture!” Courfeyrac called, and he wrangled a passing visitor to take their group shot.

Eponine rolled her eyes. “Is this what the day is going to be like, Courf?”

But she smiled for the picture as she wrapped her arms around Grantaire and Combeferre on either side of her, and the whole group meshed into one with their entangled limbs and wide grins.

Finally inside the park, they headed first for the inverted rollercoaster The Great Bear, at Eponine’s insistence. The day was bright and hot, but their sneakered feet pounded the ground as they eagerly made their way through the crowded park. 

Bahorel, Feuilly, Eponine, and Courfeyrac ran straight into the queue, not even pausing for their friends. Marius and Joly, however, stared up at the great ride apprehensively, hearing nothing but screams in the air. But then Cosette and Musichetta and Bossuet took their respective hands and tugged them gently into line.

“This is going to be so fun!” Cosette said, jumping in place.

Marius gulped. “Okay, love.”

“Our feet hang?!” Joly exclaimed as he was pulled by his partners. “How is that allowed?”

“It’s pretty common these days, Jol. I promise you’ll like it,” Musichetta said, rubbing his arm.

“Yeah, just don’t lose your shoes. I feel like that’s going to happen to me,” Bossuet said.

“But you’re wearing sneakers?” Joly pointed out.

Bossuet shrugged. “You know me. It’s bound to happen.”

Still outside the ride were Jehan, Combeferre, Grantaire, and Enjolras.

Combeferre looked at his friends and shrugged. “I’m down if you guys are down. I’ll just hold on to my glasses.”

“Yeah, this one’s super fun,” Grantaire said, turning to look at Enjolras. “What do you think?”

Enjolras looked at the twisted ride again. “I don’t know…”

“You had oatmeal, like, three hours ago. I’m sure your stomach’s fine.”

Combeferre snorted. “So you told him the middle school vomit story, huh?”

“Pretty sure we all have one of those,” Jehan laughed.

Enjolras gave them each a mock glare, then said “I think I’m gonna sit this one out. Maybe I’ll do it later. But please, go on if you want to!” Enjolras said quickly, turning to Grantaire. “I don’t want to ruin your fun.”

Grantaire turned to Jehan. “How about you?”

“I think I’m with Enjolras on this one,” Jehan admitted.

“I’ll go on with you if you want, R,” Combeferre suggested.

“Do it!” Enjolras said, pushing Grantaire toward the queue. “Scream so we can hear you! Oh, and I can hold anyone’s bags, if they’d like.”

So Combeferre and Grantaire headed onto the ride, and Enjolras and Jehan found a curb to sit on and park their stuff.

“So you’re still sticking with the vomit story, huh?” Jehan said, bumping Enjolras with his shoulder.

Enjolras raised his eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“You can say you’re afraid of rollercoasters, Enj,” Jehan said softly.

Enjolras shook his head violently. “I’m not afraid. I just don’t like them. They make me sick.”

“And you’re probably already feeling sick in line before them, too?” Jehan added knowingly.

“Yes, exactly!” Enjolras said, then noticed Jehan’s pointed look.

His shoulders slumped. “Fine. Maybe I’m afraid. But it’s ridiculous! It’s only a ride, and it’s safer than driving a car, probably.”

“It’s okay to be scared of something, you know,” Jehan said. “It doesn’t make you less brave. In fact, it’s what makes you brave.”

“Oh, please. You’re not afraid of anything,” Enjolras said, but his voice faltered when he saw something dark come up in the other man’s eyes.

“Everyone’s afraid of something,” the poet replied morbidly, right as a little girl ran past them with a dripping ice cream cone.

“I just meant… you seem fearless,” Enjolras continued. “You sing onstage in a band, you’re openly and proudly yourself, you sleep in a graveyard sometimes, you eat food that _Courf_ cooks. I wouldn’t even do that.”

Jehan chuckled. “It does take some getting used to.”

“I really admire you,” Enjolras admitted. “I’m glad Courfeyrac forced me to go to your show that night. Not only did I find the love of my life, but some of my best friends, too. Except Parnasse. Fuck that guy.”

Jehan laughed, then wiped his eye with his wrist. “What’s making you so open today, Enj? I like it.”

Enjolras opened his mouth to respond, but then saw some of his friends out of the corner of his eye. Feuilly, Bahorel, Courfeyrac, and Eponine were windswept, sweaty, and positively beaming.

“That was fantastic!” Bahorel said. “You guys have got to get on this thing. It’s intense.”

“Yes!” Courfeyrac pulled Jehan off the curb. “It’s not rocky at all, babe, really smooth. I think you’ll like it.”

Jehan smiled serenely at his boyfriend. “Okay, maybe in a little bit I’ll try it.”

Shortly after, the rest of the group met them at the curb, looking similarly windblown and high on adrenaline. Even Joly was bouncing as much as his partners.

“I felt like I was paragliding! It was so cool!” he was saying to Enjolras.

Marius was looking a little green next to the exuberant Cosette, but he swallowed his nausea and plastered a smile on his face. “Yeah, I loved it.”

When Combeferre and Grantaire got off the ride, Grantaire went straight to Enjolras and squeezed his hand.

“We have got to ride something together, love. I don’t care if it’s a kiddie ride- the sheer erotica of holding your loved one’s hand while screaming on a coaster is calling me.”

“You’re holding my hand right now, you weirdo,” Enjolras pointed out, but he smiled. “I guess I can do that for you.”

Grantaire whooped. “Yall heard that, right?”

“R, I’m hurt,” Combeferre teased. “I thought we really made a connection with our hand-holding up the hill climb.”

Grantaire considered. “Yeah, you’re right.” He let go of Enjolras’s hand and walked over to Combeferre, putting an arm around his shoulders. “Sorry, Apollo. I’m leaving you for Ferre. The depths of our love are too deep to ignore.”

Enjolras laughed along with everyone else at the joke, but he still pulled Grantaire’s arm off his best friend. “Uh-huh. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Grantaire saw the glint of jealously in Enjolras’s eyes, even as he tried to hide it with another laugh. So Grantaire leaned up and kissed Enjolras’s lips firmly. “I know.”

“Get a room, you fucking creeps. There are children here!” Eponine called, and a mother with a young boy gave her a dirty look.

“What next?” Cosette asked.

“Ferris wheel?” Feuilly suggested. “Everyone can get on that.”

They agreed, and made their way to the contraption. In line, Enjolras looked at the ride with a lump in his throat, but stepped on to the rocking cart when Grantaire pulled his hand, and up they went.

Next were Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta, who eagerly made their way onto one of the few rides that had room for three to sit together. Many coasters had four seats in a row, luckily, but many more still only had two.

In tow were Marius and Cosette, looking like an Instagram worthy couple as she pulled out her phone to take pictures of them in the air.

“Honey, just look at me or the camera, not at the ground, and you’ll be okay,” Cosette coaxed, and Marius took a deep breath and nodded.

Courfeyrac and Jehan sat with Jehan’s legs over Courfeyrac’s until an employee yelled at them to make them stop. The couple snickered, and Jehan instead lay his head on Courfeyrac’s shoulder.

“I wish we could just spend the whole day up here. I feel like I could write a song,” Jehan muttered.

“We’ll come back again when it gets dark,” Courfeyrac promised.

In the final cart sat Bahorel, Feuilly, Combeferre, and Eponine, who laughed at the other couples surrounding them.

“I pity them. Single life is the best,” Bahorel declared, stretching his arms behind his head and leaning back.

Feuilly felt his heart sink a few inches, but didn’t say a word.

“I guess the nicest part is knowing you always have someone to sit on the Ferris wheel with,” Combeferre said, and Eponine elbowed him in the side.

“What, are we nothing to you? You could literally randomize any pair or group within us, and we’d still have fun,” she said. “That’s what’s nice about being such close friends.”

Bahorel gave her a look. “You’re really telling me that you could sit here with, like, Pontmercy?”

Eponine’s cheeks darkened, but only slightly. “Marius and I have been friends since middle school, so yeah, I’d say we’d be fine.” She perked her chin up. “I’d do better with him than you would, jerk.”

“I love Marius!” Bahorel protested. “He’s just, you know, Marius.”

The group nodded their agreement with his statement.

Over in the first cart, Enjolras was holding Grantaire’s hand so tightly, Grantaire thought it was about to shatter.

“Hey. You okay?” he asked, and Enjolras nodded.

“I’m fine. Why?”

“Well, for one thing, you’re trying to murder my hand,” Grantaire said, and Enjolras quickly let go.

“I’m sorry! Heights… aren’t my favorite,” he admitted.

Grantaire put an arm around him. “Fair enough. Want me to distract you?”

“On the Ferris wheel? That’s so tacky,” Enjolras scoffed, but quieted when he felt Grantaire’s mouth on his neck.

“That’s why they invented Ferris wheels, mi amour.”

Naturally, when their cart made its way to the ground and the pair were still… distracted, Eponine took it upon herself to bring them back to reality.

“Ew, that’s gay!” she called, and the rest of her friends around her sniggered.

Enjolras immediately flew away from Grantaire, fists clenched as if he were ready for a fight, but Grantaire placed a hand on his arm with a laugh.

“It’s only ‘Ponine, dear.”

Enjolras let out a sigh, and his puffed chest sunk back to normal.

However, when the attendant opened their doors and the couple started to step out, they found themselves face to face with a mother holding the hands of two young boys, face burning so red, there was practically smoke coming out of her nostrils.

“How _dare_ you display that behavior in front of children!” she hissed.

“Ma’am, with all due respect, there is no difference between what my partner and I did and what those teenagers in the cart before us did,” he replied coolly.

Grantaire looked at Enjolras in admiration. _That man sure knows how to play a situation._

Combeferre heard this and snorted, glancing over at Marius and Cosette, whom he was referring to. Marius furrowed his brow, wondering what teenage couple was riding with them, whereas Cosette positively beamed.

The woman huffed. “Well, it does not fit the family-friendly nature of this park.” She tightened her grip on her two children, who frankly seemed more interested in the upcoming ride than whatever she was talking about.

“If you have a problem, I advise you to speak to the manager,” Enjolras said calmly.

He took Grantaire’s hand and added, “have a wonderful day,” with a tight smile.

They walked out the exit gate to their waiting friends. Before they could say a word, the woman screeched, “You’re going to hell!” from her Ferris wheel cart with the kids.

Without even turning around, Enjolras called back, “I’m afraid that language does not fit the family-friendly nature of this park!”

Courfeyrac couldn’t help letting out a “whoop!” at that, and raised his hand for a high five, to which Enjolras obliged with a true smile.

“Man, I don’t know how you do it,” Bahorel said, shaking his head. “If anyone ever said anything like that to me, I wouldn’t be able to think for anger, much less snap back.”

Joly nodded. “I usually just walk away,” he admitted.

Bossuet took his hand. “When we first started dating in high school, people said crap to us all the time. We were fifteen, just kids, so it became easier to just keep our heads down.”

Musichetta sniffed, then pressed a kiss to each of their cheeks. “I am so happy you don’t have to go through that anymore.”

“It’s hard,” Enjolras said. “Especially when it can be dangerous. But with her, I knew I had the upper ground, so I wasn’t worried.”

“Yeah, I gotta admit, that was a really big turn on,” Grantaire said, rubbing Enjolras’s hand with his thumb.

Eponine wrinkled her nose. “Ew, you guys are totally the ones that have sex at straight pride parades.”

“No!” Enjolras burst, horrified.

Grantaire merely grinned.

“I would!” Courfeyrac said, raising his hand. Jehan gently pulled it down.

“I’d do a kiss for sure,” Enjolras added.

“Like the vine!” Bossuet chimed in, and everyone laughed.

“Do you guys want to do some games next?” Feuilly suggested, and they all began walking towards the arcade area across the park. After Jehan and Eponine flipped off the Ferris wheel woman, of course.

As they were walking, Grantaire turned closer to Enjolras. “Hey, I didn’t mean to embarrass you with the straight pride thing.”

Enjolras shook his head. “No, you’re fine. It’s just… no, it’s stupid.”

“Pshhhh,” Grantaire let out, smiling at his boyfriend. “Nothing you say is stupid, love. You could say that the moon is made of cocaine and I’d be like ‘hm, seems plausible.’”

The group made their way past the waterpark section, and the sounds of splashing and delighted screaming became the backtrack of their conversation.

“Okay, so I know virginity is a social construct, and sex doesn’t determine your self-worth, and slut-shaming is absurd,” Enjolras began, his words bumping into each other as he rushed to get them out.

Grantaire raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“But… sex with you feels… special,” he breathed, and Grantaire felt his heart swell three sizes in his chest.

“Like, it doesn’t feel like something I should showcase to the world,” Enjolras continued. “It’s not a gag, or a hookup. Even when we’re just fucking in the bathroom at the club or something, it still feels like it’s yours and mine, with nothing else attached. I don’t know, maybe that’s old fashioned of me.”

Grantaire shook his head. “You know you’re the love of my life, right?” he said, eyes gleaming.

Enjolras lifted up Grantaire’s hand within his own and kissed his knuckles. “Mine, too.” 

They caught up with their friends at the ring toss game just in time to hear Bahorel say, “Oh, I am going to win that fucking giant panda if it takes me all day.”

And he handed the attendant his first twenty-dollar bill.

For a while, everyone watched Bahorel continue to lose, each ring falling off the bottle with a passionate swear from him.

“C’mon Baz, you got this!” Cosette cheered, clapping her hands.

“You know this game is rigged, right?” Eponine said, leaning against the ledge of the structure.

Bahorel grit his teeth. “I’m gonna do it, I swear to god.”

Eventually, the friends started to trail off to other games- save for Feuilly, who pitched in his own ten dollars to try and help throw some rings.

When Marius and Cosette slipped into the photo booth, of course they were noticed by Courfeyrac, who then insisted that everyone climb into the tiny booth with them.

The result was a picture of more limbs than anything else, and several grunts and complaints of feet being stomped on.

“We’ll have to do it again anyway since Bahorel and Feuilly aren’t in it,” Bossuet pointed out, and Courfeyrac nodded fervently.

“For sure.”

“Must we? Combeferre winced, rubbing his neck. “I think it was at capacity that time.”

“Nothing is ever at capacity with us, my friend. You know that,” Courfeyrac laughed.

“I have no idea what that means, but coming from you, it makes sense.”

Each tried their luck at the “prize every time!” duck game, and each won the smallest plush lizard.

“I think I’m gonna name mine Dildo,” Eponine mused, looking it over.

“Mine’s Viagra,” Jehan deadpanned, and they burst into giggles.

Cosette gave them each a weary look. “Remind me to never bring my kids here with you two.”

“Oh, please. Jehan and I will be the fun Aunt and Uncle,” Eponine said.

Bossuet raised his hand. “Can I be the uncle that no one is sure how they’re related to?”

Joly gave him a weird look. “You’ll be related to us, you goon. Everyone will know that.”

“Also, who has a random uncle that no one knows how they’re related to?” Grantaire asked.

“If you think about it hard enough, you know you have that one person,” Bossuet pointed out.

Grantaire considered. Then, he burst out, “Wait, who the fuck is Mr. Bob?”

Enjolras tilted his head at him. “Who?”

“This guy that always came with my aunt for Thanksgiving. But she was married to my Uncle Pervis, and she doesn’t have a brother…”

“R, I hate to break it to you, but your grandfather is actually Mr. Bob,” Jehan said, patting his shoulder. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this.”

Grantaire shuddered. “Thanks for that weird, repressed memory, Boss.”

“Anytime.”

After they finally dragged Bahorel away from the ring toss game (now a hundred dollars poorer and still sadly panda-less) they split up, some to ride other rides like Laff Track, some to shop, and some to just walk around and enjoy the atmosphere. Later, they met up again to grab some food at the food court and discuss what to do next.

“I say Wild Mouse,” Musichetta suggested. “It’s more of a kiddie ride, so we all can do it, and they seat four to a cart.”

Grantaire gaped. “Wild Mouse is _not_ a kiddie ride.”

Enjolras looked at him in alarm. “I’m not doing it if he’s not doing it.”

“Oh my god, relax,” Eponine said, her mouth full of the hot dog Jehan bought her. “Gav and Zel and I have been riding it literally since they were in diapers. They were too small, but I snuck them on. It’s fine.”

After lunch, they walked over to that ride. Looking up at this one, Enjolras breathed a sigh of relief.

“Okay, this doesn’t look so bad. I don't even remember it, to be honest.”

Grantaire gave him a look. “I’ll remember you said that.”

After waiting in line, they hopped onto their cart and were quickly joined by Combeferre and Courfeyrac.

“Just like when we used to come in middle school!” Courfeyrac said excitedly. “Well, minus you, R.”

Grantaire chuckled. “For that experience, I’d have to ride with Joly and Bossuet. Which sounds pretty fun, now that I think about it.”

Eponine tagged along with Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta in their car, Jehan sat with Bahorel and Feuilly, and Marius and Cosette made their way into the final one.

As it went up the track, Enjolras took a deep breath.

Grantaire squeezed his hand. “You good?”

“Yeah, just-“

Combeferre interrupted him with a laugh. “Of course this is the ride we get on after lunch.”

“What do you- aaaAHHHHH!” Enjolras screamed, as the cart hurled itself close to the edge of the track before sliding away and down the hill.

Courfeyrac screamed too, but in a much more joyful fashion. Combeferre, in turn, began laughing so hard that his eyes filled with tears that ran down his cheeks as they flew through the wind.

Grantaire gripped his restraints tightly as the ride whirled by, but even he began to loosen up when he saw Combeferre shaking and Enjolras and Courfeyrac seemingly competing over who can be louder.

When the reign of terror finally slowed and the cart halted to a stop on its tracks, Enjolras let out a relieved breath, hitting his head against the headrest. His friends were now all shaking with mirth, and he glared at each one.

“What kind of hell on earth was that?” he screeched, his voice a pitch higher than usual. “Seriously!”

“I told yall it wasn’t a kiddie ride,” Grantaire said, shaking his head as they exited.

“I’m gonna kill Eponine,” Enjolras muttered.

“I’m gonna high five her,” Combeferre said, and that is exactly what happened when the other cart let out.

Courfeyrac slung an arm around Enjolras’s shoulder. “But you rode a ride without getting sick! That’s huge!”

Enjolras gulped. “Yeah, I suppose.”

“Some people weren’t so lucky,” Joly said, overhearing them and pointing to Cosette and Marius getting off. There wasn’t any vomit in the cart, thankfully, but Marius was about as pale as light and had a hand clasped over his mouth.

“It’s okay, honey,” Cosette said soothingly, stroking his back. “Let’s just head to the bathroom.”

“You go,” he choked out. “I don’t want to ruin your fun.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice heavy with concern.

In response, Marius turned and bolted to the nearest restroom.

Cosette made a move to go after him, but Musichetta put a hand on her arm. “Let him go, dear. There’s not much you can do for him anyway.”

Cosette nodded, a frown sliding over her delicate face.

However, she perked up when Bahorel said, “Skyrush, anyone?”

Enjolras turned to Grantaire. “Sounds like a no from me.”

“Well, it’s on the other side of the park, and it’s way smoother than what we just did,” Grantaire pointed out. “Besides…” he gave Enjolras a cheeky smile. “You did say you’d ride a real rollercoaster with me.”

“Did I?”

“Uh-huh. No take-backs.” Grantaire took his hand and the group, minus the sick Marius, walked to their next destination.

When they got to the great, yellow contraption, Joly jumped up into the air. “Yes, a hanging ride! My favorite!”

“Oh, how quickly the times change,” Musichetta laughed.

Grantaire dropped his voice a register to say to Enjolras, “I don’t want to freak you out, but this is the fastest one in the park. I’d love to get on it with you, but don’t feel obligated.”

Enjolras stared at the ride. The seats were in fours, but the two on the end hung over the edge of the track.

“I’ll do it,” he said finally, acutely aware of how everyone was peering at him waiting for an answer. “But I am NOT sitting on the end.”

“Of course!” Grantaire said with a grin. “This is gonna be wild.”

Feuilly grabbed them a locker to store all their stuff in, and they got into pairs of four to wait in line.

Enjolras’s hand was firmly clasped to Grantaire’s and they were approached by each of their best friends.

“R, I haven’t ridden anything with you all day, and that needs to change,” Eponine said.

Combeferre appeared by Enjolras’s side and added, “I’ll sit in the middle with you, Enj. We’ll let the crazy people hang off the edge.”

“Livin’ la Vida Loca, baby,” Grantaire said in a comically high voice, while Eponine stuck her tongue out.

The gate finally opened, leaving seats for Eponine, Combeferre, Enjolras, and Grantaire.

“Oh, Christ. Do we really have to be in the front?” Enjolras pleaded.

“Yup, we do,” Grantaire said, gesturing with his hand for his friends to sit down before him.

The next cart had Bossuet, Joly, Musichetta, and Cosette, who tagged along with the trio this time.

“I gotta warn you, I’m a hand-holder on rides,” Cosette said to Chetta as they climbed in.

“Oh, honey, we all are,” Musichetta laughed, and the four of them each held the adjacent hand.

The third cart had Bahorel (who pushed his way through to be on the end), Feuilly, Jehan, and Courfeyrac, who looked a bit apprehensive about sitting on the end, but nonetheless hopped right into his seat.

The hill climb began, and, without knowing it, each of the amis clutched a hand. Enjolras was already holding tight to Grantaire, but Combeferre was surprised when Eponine quietly laced her fingers through his. He didn’t say a word.

Bossuet, Joly, Musichetta, and Cosette were clinging to each other in happy anticipation before the climb even started.

When Courfeyrac started to breathe quicker than normal but smiled as if he were enjoying it, Jehan took his hand and squeezed it.

“You’re the one that hates rollercoasters!” Courfeyrac squealed. “Why am I nervous? Why are you not?”

Jehan shrugged. “Your comfort is more important to me than mine right now.”

Then he added, “Also, holding your hand helps my nerves, too.”

But it wasn’t until they descended that first, largest hill that Bahorel grabbed Feuilly’s hand in a moment of fear. As Courfeyrac and Jehan screamed, Bahorel and Feuilly let out “whooooos!”, but Feuilly’s came out of a smiling mouth.

The second cart was laughing and yelling all at once, enjoying the rush and each other’s company.

And even as Combeferre, Eponine, and Grantaire screamed in joy and Enjolras screamed in fear, Grantaire snuck glances at his partner, clearly scared shitless but holding his hand through it.

When the ride finally finished, Grantaire kissed Enjolras’s knuckles. “You did it! How do you feel?”

Enjolras managed a smile. “Relieved, but also strangely exhilarated.”

“That was so fun!” Eponine said with a genuine smile, until she and Combeferre had to face the awkwardness of pulling their hands apart to lift up their restraints. Each pretended not to notice.

Cart number two was lost in a giggle fit. “I think I need to spend more time with you guys. That was awesome,” Cosette said, laughing fondly with her friends.

“And I didn’t lose my shoe! Even at the end!” Bossuet said proudly, and Joly and Musichetta applauded for him.

Cart three was high on adrenaline. Even when they had to break away to pull the restraints up, Bahorel took Feuilly’s hand and raised their arms in the air, going “WOOOO! Yes!”

Feuilly blushed and shook his head with a smile. “That was crazy.”

“I always forget how much rollercoasters freak me out, but I still like them!” Courfeyrac said brightly, holding a hand out to Jehan to help him out.

Jehan raised his eyebrows and said, “Me doing this should showcase how much I love you more than any poem I write, huh?” 

Courfeyrac beamed and kissed him full on the mouth, in the perfect view of the kids and families waiting to get on the ride.

When they all had exited that ride, Jehan said, “Well, it’s getting dark, and I was promised a dark Ferris wheel ride.”

“Yeah, maybe some of us can ride the Bear again and some can do the Ferris wheel?” Bahorel suggested.

“Or some of us can sit and take a breather,” Enjolras said.

“In my language, that means ‘ice cream break,” Bossuet said, and Courfeyrac nodded fervently.

“Wait, we have to grab Marius first,” Cosette reminded everyone. “He’s been in the bathroom a long time. I hope he’s okay.”

“Well, we never exactly told him where we were going to be,” Combeferre said.

“I’ll text him.” Cosette yanked her drawstring bag off her shoulders and rummaged through it for her phone.

“Aha!” she said, as her fingers gripped around a smooth rectangle. But when she pulled out a phone with a blue case, her face fell.

“What is it?” Eponine asked. “Did your screen crack in the bag, or something?”

“I forgot,” Cosette said slowly. “I was carrying both Marius’s and my phone. So he doesn’t have his.”

Bahorel whistled. “Rut row.”

“Well, let’s start with the bathroom, then,” Enjolras said, leading his friends in that direction.

But when they got there, there was no Marius.

“We knocked on every stall,” Courfeyrac reported, coming out of the bathroom with Feuilly.

“And we searched this surrounding area,” Musichetta reported, returning with Eponine.

“What do we do now?” Bossuet asked.

“A missing child report?” Grantaire suggested, a slight glimmer in his eye.

“No, he’s not a minor so they won’t care,” Enjolras said, rubbing his forehead.

“Okay, but think about how funny it would be to hear over the loudspeakers, ‘MARIUS PONTMERCY: YOUR FAMILY IS WAITING FOR YOU IN AREA A.”

Cosette shot him a look. “Can we not, please?”

“Well, what kind of things does he like?” Combeferre asked Cosette. “That might give us some clue about where he went.”

“He should have just stayed in this area. That’s the first rule when you’re separated from a group,” Enjolras said hotly.

Grantaire patted his shoulder. “Okay, calm down, boy scout.”

“Oh!” Cosette said suddenly. “He was dying to go to the Chocolate World Ride, and I said we’d probably do it on the way out. It’s near the end of the day, so he may have just headed that way.”

“Is that the one where they give out free chocolate at the end? Hell, yeah. I’d end up there too,” Bahorel said, and they headed north out of the park towards the Chocolate World building by the parking lot.

“What if we can’t find him there?” Cosette whispered to Eponine as they walked. “It gets really crowded.”

Eponine put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a brief, but still friendly, squeeze. “We’ll find him. And hey, we can tell the child services people if we have to. I’ll say he’s my fourteen-year-old brother.”

Cosette let out a small laugh.

The Chocolate World building was swarming with people getting their last-minute gifts and candy before the park closed, but they could still see Marius, leaning on a statue of a cow with an apprehensive look on his face.

“Marius!” Cosette called, and the group waved to get his attention as they came closer.

Finally seeing them, Marius grinned and ran towards Cosette, engulfing her in a hug.

“I’m so sorry I had your phone! I totally forgot!” Cosette said, looking at her boyfriend’s freckled face with wide eyes.

Marius shook his head. “No worries! I knew you guys would end up here eventually, and I only got lost a couple times getting here.”

After each person had adequately made sure Marius was alright, Grantaire said, “Did I hear something about free chocolate on this ride?”

So they got in line and made their way onto the ride, which was a musical tour through the process of chocolate making. The carts sat two or three in each row of two, which naturally put the couples together- leaving Eponine and Combeferre awkwardly sitting together behind Jehan and Courfeyrac.

“This feels like a bad trip,” she said as the cart took them through a farm of singing cows.

Combeferre chuckled. “It’s tradition to do it, but I have no idea why.”

“The free chocolate, duh.”

By the middle of the ride, Courf and Jehan were enthusiastically singing the repeated theme song.

“Hershey’s Milk Chocolate Tasty Treats!” Courfeyrac belted. “Barricade should totally put this on their next album.”

“Yeah, I’ll suggest that to the gang and see what they say,” Jehan laughed.

Eponine kicked the back of his seat. “No!”

“Oh, just wait till we ride ‘It’s a Small World’ at Disney, love.”

“Considering my lack of belief that that trip is happening, I think I’m gonna not,” Eponine said.

The cart with Marius and Cosette and Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta was full of smiles, as the five of them genuinely enjoyed the silly ride.

“It’s so educational. Look, it shows you where the cacao beans are grown in South America!” Marius pointed.

“That Hershey Kiss lady is kind of freaky. Like, why does she have eyelashes and the others don’t?” Bossuet said, continuing his pondering of the chocolate character mascots.

The cart with Enjolras and Grantaire and Bahorel and Feuilly was quiet. Enjolras had his head resting on Grantaire’s shoulder, and he listened to Grantaire’s whispered commentary of the ride with a gentle smile.

“That cow is definitely plotting to murder the other cows. I bet she’d dunk them in the melting part of the factory,” Grantaire said, enjoying the feel of Enjorlas’s curls under his head. 

Feuilly and Bahorel were just sitting quietly, watching the scenes go by. Then, Feuilly cleared his throat. “Can I ask you something?”

Bahorel sat straight up, knowing that Enjorlas and Grantaire were too wrapped up in their own mush to notice anything happening behind them. “Yeah, of course.”

“Do you really just want to stay single? I mean, almost everyone is coupled up,” Feuilly said, gesturing to their friends.

Bahorel snorted. “Like that’s a good reason to get with someone, because everyone else is. I’m fine being single, really. It just makes things easier.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Less pressure, I guess.”

Feuilly nodded.

Then Bahorel said, “Anyway, why do you ask?”

“Oh, just curious,” Feuilly lied. “Anyone would be lucky to date you, so it must be your choice to be single.”

“Thanks, man,” Bahorel said, punching Feuilly’s arm lightly. Then, almost unprompted, he said, “Did I ever tell you I think I’m bi?”

Feuilly swiftly looked back at him. “Really? With all the girls spending the night at our apartment?”

“I said bi, moron. That means you like both.”

“I know, I’ve just… never seen any guys.”

“Well, I’ve only ever liked a couple,” Bahorel admitted. _Or one._

“When did you figure this out?” Feuilly asked.

“Uh… I had suspicions in high school.”

“High school?!” Feuilly exclaimed. “Seriously? I thought we told each other everything then!”

“I couldn’t! I had a crush on you,” Bahorel said confidently, hiding his beating heart. “It was probably the football uniform.”

Feuilly stopped breathing. “Me? Really?”

At the worst moment, the ride stopped, and they had to exit to receive their free chocolate. Bahorel was scooped into conversation by Bossuet, and Feuilly walked almost in a daze beside Enjolras and Grantaire, hand in hand.

Enjolras turned to Feuilly and frowned. “Hey. You okay?”

Feuilly nodded, then shook his head. “I’ll text you later.”

Enjolras raised his eyebrows, but said nothing more.

When they returned to the store section of the building, they scattered to buy chocolates and candies for the ride home.

“I’m gonna need a Hershey’s coffee,” Courfeyrac yawned.

“Want me to drive? I don’t mind,” Jehan offered.

“Nah, thanks though. I dragged everyone onto this trip, and I’ll drag everyone home, too.”

Bossuet, true to his word, spent the remainder of his money on chocolate, pushing a full cart of it that Joly and Musichetta had to help him with.

“Please, hon, don’t eat all of this in the car,” Musichetta pleaded.

Bossuet looked at her and Joly gravely. “I can make no promises.”

Eponine bought a few bags of kisses for Gavroche and Azelma, and Enjolras bought a blue jacket that said, “Hershey Park.”

“That’s different,” Grantaire nodded at it.

“I want you to take my red one when Barricade goes on tour,” Enjolras said casually. “Maybe it’ll feel like I’m there, sort of.”

Grantaire smiled. “Thank you.”

“But we’re not allowed to get sappy about you leaving until October,” Enjolras warned, and Grantaire quickly nodded.

They all took one final picture at the front of the store at Courfeyrac’s insistence, and headed back to the van, tired and loaded with goodies, but each person wearing a smile.

“Sorry we didn’t get on the Ferris Wheel again,” Courfeyrac said to Jehan.

“It’s fine.” Jehan waved his hand. “I’ve got plenty of material as is. Besides, we can always come back.”

“Or ride that shady Ferris wheel at the carnival your hometown throws.”

“Oh, no,” Jehan said. “Not until I want to meet the Grim Reaper.”

“Deal.”

The gang plopped into the van as Courfeyrac opened the doors, scooting into their spots and preparing for the three-hour drive home. At first, the van was alive with the sounds of munching chocolate, but an hour in, everyone was quiet. Heads were resting against windows and on shoulders as the friends drifted off to sleep, or tried to.

Bahorel and Feuilly sat shoulder to shoulder, not quite leaning on each other and not quite asleep, but close to it.

Marius and Cosette and Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta were, naturally, as curled up together as parings could be.

Enjolras actually did manage to fall asleep on Grantaire’s shoulder, his curls hanging in his face. Grantaire kissed his head and spent almost the whole ride admiring the god of a man that had chosen to love him. How could he sleep?

Eponine, always one to try and crush awkwardness, swung her legs up and lay them across Combeferre’s lap. “How am I supposed to sleep sitting up?”

She lay her head against the window and closed her eyes. Combeferre smiled fondly at her, and rested his hand on her ankle.

Jehan turned around in the passenger seat and took in the sight of his friends. “You did good, Courf,” he said softly.

Courfeyrac grinned. “I feel like we’re the parents, and we just pulled off the most bomb-ass vacation, and now the toddlers are asleep.”

“That’s almost exactly right,” Jehan said, looking back at the dark highway in front of them. “I wish we could stay this close forever.”

Grantaire felt his heart clench. He looked down at Enjolras again, and felt the energy of the people around him. He couldn’t lose this. Not for anything. But he would, wouldn’t he?

“Even if we can’t stay like this forever, we’ll always have today,” Courfeyrac said. “That’ll never change, even if we do. Though I hope we don’t.”

“We will, though.” Grantaire piped up. “A lot is going to happen in the next few years, and thirteen people are a large amount to hold together. What are we supposed to do?”

“All we can do is love each other, and hope for the best,” Jehan said, meeting Grantaire’s gaze in the rearview mirror.

The van barreled on home to Baltimore, and the amis slept or sat together, smelling of sweat, sunscreen, and chocolate. Grantaire felt tears building up behind his eyelids, and he had no idea why.

“This just feels like the end of something, Jehan,” he said, his voice almost rising in panic.

“There’s no reason for that unless we make one,” Jehan said calmly. “I have faith in us.”

“Me, too,” Enjolras mumbled from Grantaire’s shoulder.

Grantaire glanced down at him. “Sorry to wake you, love.” 

“You didn’t. I wanted to make sure you know that you have us forever.”

His voice was dripping with sleep, and Grantaire smoothed the curls on his head. “I know.”

Grantaire closed his eyes, but sleep would never capture him. It wouldn’t until Courfeyrac dropped them off at his apartment, and he pulled Enjolras into their room.

Enjolras flopped onto the bed, still fully dressed in his ridiculous tank and shorts. “I don’t know why I’m so tired. I’m usually up far past this.”

Grantaire kissed his shoulder. “It’s the sun, and the adrenaline rush. Always comes with a crash.”

Enjolras nodded. “If I just pull off my clothes and go straight to sleep now, will you mind?”

“Mind? What kind of stupid question is that?” Grantaire teased.

“I really should shower, though…”

“Babe, I’ve smelled you worse. Just go to sleep.”

And so Enjolras did, and it was only when Grantaire joined him under the covers that he started to drift off, too.

“I love you more than anything,” he mumbled, and even though the other man was already dead asleep, the rhythm of his breathing so close to Grantaire told him that he felt the same exact way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can tell I write before bed based on how many times I end a chapter with E and R going to sleep. "Rollercoaster" is by Bleachers again. Enjoy the Spotify Playlist [here](https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/4sbnzJlJ6p1QSY0Glp7mfF) and feel free to say hi on [tumblr!](https://i-will-keep-on-dreaming.tumblr.com/)


	14. The Only Exception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just before Grantaire is set to go on tour with Barricade, he surprises Enjolras with something Enj never would have expected- a cat.

“I've got a tight grip on reality  
But I can't/ let go of what's in front of me here  
I know you’re leaving in the morning /when you wake up  
Leave me with some kind of proof it's not a dream”

October 2021

As Enjolras approached the front door of his and Grantaire’s apartment, bundling his coat tighter against the strangely combative October wind, he heard the mummer of a voice from behind the door.

He sighed, and prepared himself for the interaction with whoever Grantaire was entertaining. He’d really been looking forward to making some coffee and settling in with his law school essay for a quiet night, but he’d never in a million years kick out one of their friends.

As his hand turned the doorknob, he heard a strange bit of dialogue:

“No, don’t chew on that!”

Frowning, he opened the door to see his boyfriend, leaning over not one of their friends, but a tiny, grey, kitten.

“Oh great, you’re home!” Grantaire said, standing up. “We were wondering when you’d get back.”

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. “And by ‘we’, you mean?”

“Oh. That,” Grantaire laughed, clearly trying to dance around the subject. “Well. I was walking home from rehearsal at Jehan’s…”

“Mmhm,” Enjolras nodded, crossing his arms.

“And I heard the strangest little sound from behind a dumpster!” Grantaire continued, leaning over to scoop up the kitten, who was trying to chew on the corner of the couch.

“And, instead of taking it to the shelter, you decided to bring it into our home,” Enjolras finished for him.

“I couldn’t resist her face! Look at her!” Grantaire said, shoving the cat so close to Enjolras that they bumped noses.

Enjolras and the kitten stared at each other, until Enjolras’s lips twitched ever so slightly.

“See! I knew you weren’t heartless!” Grantaire exclaimed, pulling the cat back to his chest.

Enjolras ran his hands through his hair. “Did you take it to the vet? How do you know it doesn’t have fleas or something?”

“I sent a picture to Joly, and he said she looked fine.”

Enjolras gaped at his boyfriend, then said, “Grantaire, you do know Joly is a pre-med student, right? Not a vet?”

Grantaire shrugged, and began scratching the kitten’s head. She began to purr, seemingly enjoying just being held by someone. “Is there really that big a difference?”

“Yes, there is!” Enjolras protested, but then changed his course. “How do you know it’s not someone’s pet?”

“Well, there’s no collar,” Grantaire said, tilting his head to inspect her neck.

“I don’t think people usually put collars on cats. Did you put up any posters? Check the local Facebook groups?”

“’Facebook groups?’” Grantaire snickered. “What is this, 2009? What are you even talking about?”

“My mom used one when her cat went missing,” Enjolras retorted. “There’s usually a lost pets' group for every town.”

“Okay, fine,” Grantaire relented, letting the kitten down to explore again. “I’ll make a post in the Baltimore one, if it exists.”

“Thank you,” Enjolras said, and began to walk towards their room, where his desk resided.

“Do you want to know what I’ve been calling her?” Grantaire asked Enjolras’s back.

Enjolras turned. “You know if you name something, you get attached, right?”

Grantaire ignored this. “I call her Marissa, based on Marius, because she’s a little confused but she’s got the spirit.”

“How do you know it’s a she? Did Joly tell you?” Enjolras teased, watching the cat start to poke around the bathroom.

“Nah. It’s in the eyes. Hey, stop!” Grantaire called, as Marissa promptly peed on the bath mat.

Enjolras gave Grantaire a look. “Did you happen to buy a litter box?”

Grantaire hung his head. “No.”

“So I’m guessing you didn’t buy food, either,” Enjolras guessed, and Grantaire gave him a sheepish smile.

“In my defense, this all happened like twenty minutes before you showed up.”

The two went to work cleaning up Marissa’s mess, wiping up the pee with a paper towel and throwing the mat in the washing machine.

“I’ll go to the store and get a little bit of dry food and a litter box, while you make some ‘Found Cat’ posters, and make a post on the Facebook group,” Enjolras instructed.

Grantaire nodded. “Wouldn’t diapers be easier? We could just plop em on and not have to worry about it.”

“I’m pretty sure you have to change a diaper every once in a while,” Enjolras said with a laugh.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Thank God it’s just a cat and not a baby.”

“I think by the time we have a baby, we’ll be a little more prepared,” Enjolras smiled. “It won’t just show up after twenty minutes, at least.”

Grantaire furrowed his brow. “Wait. Back up. Do you… see us having kids someday?”

“Well, yeah,” Enjolras admitted. “Do you not want kids?”

“No, I do!” Grantaire said, flustered. “I just…” he trailed off, watching Marissa hop up onto the couch and curl up. “I didn’t think you saw that kind of a future for us.”

Enjolras frowned. “Grantaire…” he said softly, stepping closer and stroking the other man’s cheek with his hand. “You know I love you. Why wouldn’t we have a future?”

“It feels too good to imagine. Like, if I thought about marrying you and adopting babies and living happily ever after, something horrendous would happen,” Grantaire said. “Like the universe would go, ‘Wow, you really thought THAT would happen? Fuck you.’”

“You’re my endgame, R,” Enjolras said firmly. “And I don’t give a damn what the universe has to say about that.”

He kissed his boyfriend’s lips, and the two stood there with Enjolras’s hands on Grantaire’s face and Grantaire’s arms around Enjolras’s torso for quite some time.

“And now I gotta go buy necessities for this creature that’s sleeping in my spot on the couch,” Enjolras said when they broke apart.

Grantaire swatted his arm playfully. “You’ll learn to love her. You did with me.”

“That I did.”

And so Enjolras exited the apartment, and Grantaire flopped onto the couch next to the now sleeping Marissa.

He pet her back, and enjoyed the automatic sound of her purr. “I hope you get to stay,” he murmured. “Not only are you as cute as a devil, but you’ll keep Enj busy when I’m away on tour. He needs someone at home with him.”

He bent down and kissed her head. “Not that our friends won’t check in on him. He and Courf will probably spend a lot of time together, with their S.O’s away. They’re going to love you, by the way. I can hear the squealing now.”

Grantaire grinned, imagining the future scene. “And he’s going to be way better at taking care of you. He’s going to be a way better dad than me someday, too. I can see it now. He’ll know just what to do about everything, from diapers to colds to dating. I may fall in love first, but he is always the one that loves best.”

When Enjolras returned an hour later, hands full with plastic bags, he found his partner unable to open the door for him due to the kitten that was currently dozed off on his lap.

“Sorry, man,” Grantaire apologized, pointing to Marissa. “I couldn’t get her up.”

“I’m sure you tried your absolute best,” Enjolras said, rolling his eyes but flashing Grantaire a quick smile. “I bought a bag of dry food and a few cans of wet, and a box and some litter. I figured we could use our own bowels for water.”

Grantaire nodded. “Thank you for doing that, really. I know I should’ve warned you before I brought her home.”

“Well, just remember that for next time,” Enjolras said, setting the bags on the kitchen counter.

Afterwards, they tried to continue the evening as normal, with Enjolras working in their room and Grantaire sketching at the kitchen table.

“Stop helping,” Grantaire chuckled, pushing away Marissa as she tried to walk over his sketchbook. “This is going to be the poster for Barricade’s tour. Though I really should be working on your ‘found’ poster…”

So he pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of the fluffy monster, before sending it to the printer on Enjolras’s desk. Then he did actually find a, “Lost pets of Baltimore” page, and added the picture of Marissa with a description of where and when he found her.

Grantaire scratched the cat’s head. “At least we’ll always have the memories of our time together.”

Enjolras, exiting their bedroom with his newly finished essay in hand, shook his head at the two of them.

“You’ll understand when you find true love!” Grantaire called.

Enjolras stepped over to the table after dropping his essay in a folder in his backpack, and grabbed Grantaire by the wrist.

“Would you look at that, I found it. Now, do you want to watch a show? I finished writing way earlier than I planned.”

“Sure,” Grantaire said, standing up.

They walked over to the couch and sat down together, comfortably leaning into one another as Enjolras picked up the remote and scrolled through their DVR.

“We have an episode of _This is Us,_ or last night’s SNL.”

“Let’s do _This is Us_ first, and then afterwards we can stop crying by watching SNL,” Grantaire suggested, right as Marissa hopped off the table and over to where they were seated.

She let out a miraculously loud “mew!” for someone her size.

“Oh, she wants to come up! Come on!” Grantaire patted his lap.

But with a sound of, “muuuurh!” she jumped onto Enjolras’s open lap and immediately curled into a ball.

Enjolras couldn’t help but smile down at her, and gently began stroking her back with his fingers.

“Oh, now you like her, huh?” Grantaire said, crossing his arms. “I feel betrayed.”

“She probably only likes me because I brought her food,” Enjolras laughed.

Grantaire rested his head on Enjolras’s shoulder. “She’ll be good for you.”

Enjolras didn’t ask him what he meant by that. Instead, he pointed the remote at the television and started their show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lost pets Facebook group is inspired by the one my mom joined when our cat went missing my freshman year. Luckily, Cheddar ended up just being under our porch for a week. Also, I know Hayley Williams can't stand this song anymore because it ended up not being true for her, but my goodness, it is beautiful. "The Only Exception" by Paramore can be found with the rest of the songs [here!](https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/4sbnzJlJ6p1QSY0Glp7mfF)


	15. Gone, Gone, Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire leaves to go on tour, and the couple have to face their first separation since getting together.

“You will never sleep alone/

I'll love you long after you're gone.”

Courfeyrac: _JEHAN. R. EPONINE._

_YOU ARE PROBABLY WONDERING WHY I HAVE GATHERED YOU HERE TODAY._

Grantaire: _It’s a grouptext, bud. Not the fellowship of the ring._

Jehan: _We should absolutely cosplay lord of the rings sometime._

Grantaire: _Wait actually yeah_

Eponine: _Nerd stuff aside, what did you want to text us, Courf?_

Courfeyrac: _Thank you for asking!_

_It was going to be a long dramatic spiel asking if you were going to be home from tour during Thanksgiving._

Jehan: _Lemme check._

_There are no gigs on Thanksgiving or the day before, but we do have a show in Boston on Black Friday._

Grantaire: _And I think most of us have plans to see family on Thanksgiving Day. I, for instance, am meeting Enjolras’s parents, and I only want to die a little bit when I think about it._

Courfeyrac: _Yeah, you’re right. It was stupid to think all of us could be together that day. This isn’t “friends.”_

Jehan: _Well, most people have off the day before. Do you want to do a Friendsgiving on Wednesday? That way no one has to choose between friends or relatives._

Eponine: _I’d choose you guys in a heartbeat. But I’m in._

Courfeyrac: _That’s a great idea!! I’ll text the Big groupchat._

Courfeyrac: _Hello mon amis!! I wanted to spend Thanksgiving with you all, but then it was pointed out to me that some of us have relatives to visit on that day. That being said, would you like to get together the Wednesday before? A Friendsgiving, if you will (term coined by Jehan.)_

Joly: _Yes! Are you hosting, or is it up for grabs? Because we’re down if you’re not._

Bossuet: _We just bought this huge ass table. It barely fits in the apartment._

Courfeyrac: _Hosting sounds wonderful, thank you JBM!!_

Cosette: _This sounds so fun!! Should we all bring a dish?_

Musichetta: _Please! I can do the turkey and Boss makes killer mashed potatoes, but I know how much yall like to eat._

Cosette: _I call desserts!_

Bahorel: _Cosette, I will give you money for a second pumpkin pie solely for me. Also, I can bring stuffing._

Enjolras checked his phone after class to find it bursting with messages from his friends. He grinned as he scrolled through their conversation, but then hesitated when he went to send a text to Grantaire.

Enjolras: _Hey, are you going to be okay coming home late Tuesday night, doing Friendsgiving on Wednesday, Thanksgiving with my family on Thursday, and then driving eight hours for a gig on Friday?_

Grantaire: _Well, not when you put it like that._

_But I’ll be fine. I promised you I’d be there for Thanksgiving, and I’m not breaking that now, even though the thought of it makes me ill. And I have to see our friends on Wednesday. Courf would kill me if I missed it._

Enjolras: _I just don’t want you to be in over your head. And why does thanksgiving make you ill?_

Grantaire: _You’re kidding, right?_

Enjolras: _Is it because of my parents?_

Grantaire: _Well, yeah. And me. Not only are they conservative and rich, the one their beloved only son brings home is not only a guy, but a tattooed one without a real job. What the hell are they going to think of me next to you??_

Enjolras: _By the end of the night, they will see you exactly the way I do. And if they don’t, we’ll never go back again. My mother just made me swear when I missed last year that I’d come this time, but I wouldn’t do it without you._

Grantaire: _If they see me EXACTLY the way you do, that might be a little concerning. Your dad may be cool, but I would not like him to do some of the things you do to me._

Enjolras: _Ew. Please stop now._

_And listen to my sentiment, jerk._

Grantaire: _Alright, alright. Maybe it won’t be so bad. I’ll shave and everything._

Enjolras: _No, I love your scruff._

Grantaire: _So what I’m hearing is you WANT me to look like a total trainwreck_

Enjolras: _I want you to be yourself._

Grantaire: _Yup, trainwreck. Myself at your parents’ would be the same person I’d be at Friendsgiving, except a whole lot drunker._

_Please don’t let me get too drunk. I know it’s not your responsibility, but I’m terrified that I’m going to embarrass you._

Enjolras: _You could try not drinking._

Grantaire: _Yeah, that’s not an option._

Enjolras: _Maybe a three-drink maximum, then?_

Grantaire: _That might work._

_Are you getting home soon? I’m writing with Jehan but I should be done by dinnertime._

Enjolras: _I’m going to be doing research at the library for a while, but I can pick something up on my way back. Maybe Chinese?_

Grantaire: _Sounds good._

_Do you think we should actually cook something, for once?_

Enjolras: _With what time?_

Grantaire: _Fair point. I guess that’s what friendsgiving is for, anyway. Are you making anything?_

Enjolras: _I don’t think so. I’ll probably just buy some cranberry sauce._

Grantaire: _Wait, we should make something together._

Enjolras: _Again I ask, with what time??_

Grantaire: _Wednesday morning! Maybe cinnamon apples or something. I can teach you. It’ll be romantic and delicious as shit._

Enjolras: _If you think we have time, then yes._

_I’ve been hazardly texting and walking to the library, but now I actually have to do my work. See you later, love you_

Grantaire: _Stay safe, babe. Love you too._

Sooner than the couple would have liked, the days passed and Barricade was set to depart on its first major tour.

Grantaire was all packed to leave, but he wasn’t dressed. He was lying in bed with Enjolras, stroking his hair with one hand and their purring kitten sleeping between them with another.

“We’ve been here all day. You should probably get going,” Enjolras said.

Grantaire made a noise of agreement, but neither man moved.

Eventually, he leaned closer onto Enjolras’s pillow to kiss him deeply, only slightly disturbing Marissa in his way.

When they broke apart, Enjolras’s blue eyes were shiny.

Grantaire choked out a wet laugh. “I’ll only be gone a little while, and I’ll see you at Thanksgiving. That’s not even a month away. And then Christmas. And then…”

“May thirteenth,” Enjolras supplied without thinking.

Grantaire stroked his cheek. “We’ve done this before. We can do it again.”

“What if we can’t?” Enjolras said, propping himself onto his elbow and staring down at his partner. “When I was away, we loved each other but we weren’t together. We had no idea what it felt like to be _in_ love with one another. And now that I’ve had that… I don’t want to live without it.”

Grantaire took Enjolras’s hand and pulled him back down to his chest. “It’ll only be temporary. Most of your friends are still here, and this damn cat that no one claimed. The apartment won’t be alone without me, I promise.”

“It won’t be the same,” Enjolras mumbled. “We won’t be able to do _this._ I love you, but all the skype sex in the world isn’t going to be like the real thing.”

“I know. And I hate having to leave.”

“But you have to. This is a huge deal. And hey, I’ll come see one of the shows,” Enjolras said, tracing Grantaire’s stomach with his fingers. “Everyone else is going to miss you guys, too.”

“Just don’t hang backstage thinking you’re going to get lucky with the keyboardist. I’ve heard that guy is an ass.”

Enjolras snorted. “He seems pretty cool to me.”

By then, they could not ignore the clock any longer. Eponine was set to pick Grantaire up in eleven minutes and thirty-three seconds, not that Enjolras was counting. Why couldn’t they have more time?

“Do you think we can write letters to each other again?” Enjolras asked, as they forced themselves out of bed and Grantaire pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.

Grantaire considered, picking up his phone from the nightstand and placing it in his pocket. “We can certainly try. I don’t know how easily they’ll get to me with a different location every night, but we can try.”

Enjolras nodded. “I loved getting a new letter from you every once in a while when I was in Paris. It was like having a piece of home in a strange place.”

This seemed to jog something in his memory, and he quickly snagged his red jacket from his desk chair and handed it to Grantaire. “Here. I haven’t washed it, so you’ll find it still smells like me. I know that’s kind of gross, but I thought you’d like it.”

“Enj, I can’t-“ Grantaire began, but then lifted the jacket up to his nose and took a deep whiff. After he slowly lowered the jacket from his face, he flung his arms around Enjolras and buried his head in his neck.

“It’s wonderful, thank you. It’s a poor substitute for you, but it’ll definitely suffice.” 

Enjolras wrapped his arms around Grantaire’s waist and held him tightly.

“Are you sure you don’t want to be a groupie?” Grantaire asked, his words muffled in Enjolras’s skin.

“Though it sounds perfect to me right now, I have work, class, the ABC, and bills,” Enjolras said with a sigh. “Please don’t fall in love with any pretty boys while you’re away, even though they will definitely adore you.”

Grantaire pulled away from Enjolras’s neck to look up into his eyes. “There is no one in the entire universe that could ever compare to you. I don’t care if they think I’m God.”

They both heard Eponine’s horn honk outside, and sighed heavily.

“Well… goodbye, love. I’ll see you very soon,” Grantaire said, taking Enjolras’s hand and pressing his lips to it.

Enjolras grabbed Grantaire’s face for one, final kiss. “So soon,” he repeated, ignoring the stinging in his eyes.

“I love you. I always will.”

“I love you, too.”

And with a last hug and a quick kiss to Marissa, Grantaire was out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sad for E and R but also really want Thanksgiving food now. Song is "Gone, Gone, Gone" by Phillip Phillips, and more are found [here!](https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/4sbnzJlJ6p1QSY0Glp7mfF)


	16. Habits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To put it lightly, Enjolras and Grantaire are not coping well with their separation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: unhealthy coping mechanisms ahead, and a codependancy that needs to be worked through.

“Gotta stay high /all my life  
“To forget I'm missing you.”

“Enj, stop. He’s going to be back at Thanksgiving in a month. This isn’t like you,” Combeferre said, sitting down on Enjolras’s bed to stare at his friend’s back in his desk chair.

“Stop what? Working? I can’t. Midterms are coming up,” Enjolras said, feverishly typing with his glazed eyes close to the computer screen.

“You’ve been sitting there for hours. When’s the last time you ate something?”

Enjolras shrugged. “I had some cereal yesterday. And I have plenty of coffee.”

“Coffee does not make a meal. And what about sleep?”

“I can’t sleep, Ferre,” Enjolras finally said, swinging around in his chair. “I can’t. Every time I think about going to bed, I remember that I’m alone and he’s not going to be there.”

“Isn’t that what the cat is for?” Combeferre asked, watching Marissa lick her paws while sitting on the dresser.

“She’s a comfort, but she’s not enough. Nothing is.” So Enjolras turned back to his computer as if it were a lover.

“This isn’t healthy,” Combeferre said softly, standing up to touch Enjolras on the shoulder. “You need to know how to spend time apart.”

“Whenever we spent time apart, it meant we were fighting,” Enjolras explained. “But knowing we’re fine but not together is just… something I don’t want to think about. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He began writing like he needed it to breathe.

Combeferre looked sadly at his friend, and exited his bedroom to sit down on the couch. It was time for a few phone calls.

“Grantaire, this is not healthy!” Jehan scolded, as R gulped down another glass of wine in the hotel bar. “I get you miss him. I miss my boyfriend too. But you can’t do this every night.”

“Says who?” Grantaire spat. “At least when I’m drunk, I don’t think about how much it sucks to not see his face every day.”

“For god’s sake,” Eponine said, plopping onto the stool next to him. “You call each other. You skype. You text. You email. You write letters like it’s the fucking renaissance. And newsflash! It is not that long until you see him again!”

Grantaire shook his head, and raised his fingers toward the bartender for another drink. “It’s not the same. I’m here, and he’s there, and he’s gonna leave me for someone smarter and hotter and better than me-“

Eponine smacked his head. “Do you even HEAR yourself right now? Enjolras loves you. In fact, I remember you telling me that _he_ was worried about you falling in love with a groupie.”

“As if,” Grantaire muttered. “He’s the only man in the world.”

“And he would be so ashamed if he saw you right now,” Eponine said promptly, boring into Grantaire’s red eyes with her heavily lidded ones.

Grantaire gaped at her, then turned to Jehan for defense. But Jehan merely folded his arms.

Grantaire slid off the barstool. “Fuck you guys. You think I don’t know that?” And he stormed off towards the elevators, presumably to his hotel room.

Eponine groaned loudly and slouched in her seat. “This is so messed up. They need to get to some serious therapy when he comes home.”

“They’re both so insecure,” Jehan said thoughtfully. “In their relationship, at least. Maybe it’s easier for them to be confident in their love when they’re together, but not apart.”

“Whatever it is, it needs to stop,” Eponine said, right as her cell phone rang in her pocket. Pulling it out to check the screen, she said, “It’s Ferre.”

“Hello?”

“Hey, Ep. Is R doing okay?”

“Nope!” She answered in a mock cheery voice. “Is E?”

“Nope.”

“Fuck. What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s working himself into a stupor so he doesn’t have time to miss Grantaire. What’s yours doing?”

“What do you think?”

Combeferre sighed on the other end of the line. “Have you guys been able to play?”

“For the most part, yeah. He only gets truly hammered after the gig is over. But he looks like hell. I don’t think he’s slept this entire trip.”

“I know Enjolras hasn’t. What do we do?”

Eponine looked over at Jehan. He gestured for her to hand him the phone, so she passed it over.

“Hey Ferre, it’s Jehan. I may have a suggestion.”

“Thank god,” Combeferre sighed. “What is it?”

“I know they’ve been having trouble writing letters since we’re always in a new location, but I think that might really help them. It seemed to when Enj was abroad. I think if we all work together, we can get them to each other.”

Eponine snorted. “This sounds like a rom-com.”

“You know, that’s a good idea,” Combeferre was saying. “We can keep track of where we’re going next and tell Enj to direct his letters there depending on how long it’ll take. I can calculate that no problem.”

“I can make sure R is sober enough to read the damn things,” Eponine volunteered, raising her right hand.

“Let’s do it. Thank you, Combeferre,” Jehan said.

“No, thank you. I was at my wit’s end.”

“I understand. How’s Courf, by the way?” Jehan asked.

“He’s alright. He misses you.”

“I miss him, too,” Jehan smiled. “Though I did just text him this morning.”

“Hang in there. It’ll be friendsgiving at JBM’s before we know it,” Combeferre said. “Bye, guys.”

“Bye!” Eponine and Jehan called into the phone.

Eponine sighed. “This plan better work. Otherwise, I will place them in virtual therapy.”

“You have my blessing if it doesn’t.”

_Dear Grantaire,_

_I can’t sleep. Did you know that? I text you “good morning” and “good night” every single day just so that we can pretend to be on some sort of schedule. I don’t remember the last time I slept. Midterms are killing me._

_Missing you is killing me._

_Sometimes I wonder if moving in together was the best or worst thing we ever did. Because now that I know what it feels like to wake up with you, I can’t even get in the bed without you in it. It’s too cold._

_Marissa hops on my lap when I’m in the desk chair, though. She’s really trying to take care of me, and even in my state I always make sure to take care of her._

_Are you taking care of you?_

_I know you’re having fun on tour, and I’m thrilled. You (and Ep and Jehan) deserve it so much. But I hope you’re not losing yourself. ~~Or forgetting about me.~~ _

_Anyway. This letter is different than the ones from Paris. You know I treasure those? They were the start of Us as we know it._

_What will these represent? My spiral as I miss you?_

_They say I’m crazy for feeling like this, since I’ll see you so soon. But then you have to leave again, and again, for longer._

_I could never be a military spouse. That must be hell on earth for both parties involved._

_I almost don’t want to send you this. I want to text you and skype you and pretend that I’m fine, just fine back home._

_I’m not. And it scares me._

_How about you?_

_Love,_

_Enjolras_

_Dear Enjolras,_

_I am definitely worse off than you are. I haven’t told you how bad I’ve gotten, because you’d be so disappointed. But this letter will take a few days to get to you, so I can send it and pretend it never happened while I spill my sorrows in a Cabernet._

_What would I do if we broke up for good, Apollo? Stay drunk the rest of my life? It’s the only way I forget how much I miss you._

_Empty hotel beds suck. They suck even worse when no one in the state can fill them._

_You’re probably right- moving in together gave us too much of a good thing, so it feels like a gaping wound when it’s different._

_Not that it was all sunshine and rainbows. I think we have rose-colored glasses a little bit here. I still ache for you in every ounce of me, but living in that space together took time. And we’ll take time to learn how to be apart again, too._

_But I don’t know what to do until then, besides drink and smoke and feel like a zombie onstage. I’m worried for myself. Ep and Jehan are trying the best they can, but they can’t fill your gap._

_Christ, we are melodramatic. Why are we acting like this? Why are we pretending to be fine, and then suffering? Why are we suffering?? It’s hard, but it’s not like one of us is dead._

_Oh, god. Can you imagine. I don’t want to, but now I can’t stop._

_I am so fucking glad that you’re not dead._

_And I know how devastated you’d be if I were._

_Maybe I should try and straighten up so that you never have to feel that way._

_I can’t wait to hold you again. I never thought I’d say this, but bring on thanksgiving with your parents. I look forward to it._

_When I play a show each night, I imagine it’s the night we met, and you’re standing there in the front row with those ocean eyes just shining into my soul._

_(That makes no sense. I need to go to bed.)_

_And you do too, I’m sure. Promise me when you read this that you’ll eat something of substance or power off your mac and take a nap. I’ll think of you, and do the same._

_I’m going to keep myself alive for you, my love. I can promise you that._

_Why does that feel like a lie?_

_Scratch that. I am going to try. It’s all I can do._

_Love,_

_Grantaire_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Habits" is by Tove Lo. Will I ever stop promoting this fic's [Spotify Playlist?](https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/4sbnzJlJ6p1QSY0Glp7mfF) Probably not. I vibe with it too much.


	17. Beautiful Trauma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> E and R have to figure out how they're going to deal with being apart, because their current method is not cutting it.

“My love/ my drug /we're fucked up.”

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

“I just got your letter.”

Grantaire breathed deeply on the other end of the phone. “Oh, yeah? Did I say something sappy?”

“Please. This is serious. We’re not coping with this well at all.”

“Actually, I think we’re just dramatic people.”

“Grantaire…”

“I’m serious! Think about it- you hadn’t slept in days when you wrote yours, and I have been so fucked up that everything I say is wrong.”

Grantaire could hear Enjolras stand up, and imagined him pacing around their apartment.

“Maybe we just need to practice what life would be like without the other.”

“I don’t want to imagine that.”

“I don’t either, but… this is scary. I need to know that I am still whole without you.”

Grantaire frowned, and lay back onto his still-made hotel bed. “I’m not whole without you.”

“Except you are. We all are. Partners should enhance us, not complete us,” Enjolras said, sounding like an actor in an infomercial.

“Where’d you get that line from?”

“Cosette. She has her exam to be a licensed therapist next week.”

“Enj, she cannot be our therapist. That would be, like, forty conflicts of interest.”

“She’s not going to be our therapist. She was only helping me as a friend.”

“Yeah, a friend that psychoanalyzes you.” Then, Grantaire thought back to what Enjolras had been saying. “Wait, so what’s your point?”

“My point-“ Grantaire could hear a ruffling beside the phone and knew Enjolras was running his free hand through his hair. He was jealous of that hand.

“My point is, I think we should wait until you come home to communicate the way we’ve been.”

Grantaire felt the air leave his chest. “Like a break? Like Ross and Rachel?”

“No, not like Ross and Rachel. I’ll never sleep with someone else while I love you.”

“What do you mean, then? You miss me so much that you don’t want to talk to me?”

“Maybe?” Enjolras sighed. “I feel like I need to distract myself from this ache. Find a new normal, at least until you come home for a little while.”

“And what would that entail? Pretending the other doesn’t exist?”

“No, of course not. I just think we need to focus on making ourselves better. I just want to go to the café with our friends and not spend the whole time thinking about how wrong it is that you’re not there! Even though I spent years without you there before.”

“That’s how it felt when you were in Paris,” Grantaire admitted.

“How did you cope?”

“Well, back then I was still admiring you from afar, so I just continued that on a grander scale. It’s harder now that I know what it is to love you, even harder than I thought.”

“Maybe we can try and go back to that a little?” Enjolras suggested. “We can still talk and know we love each other, but not have to constantly direct our attention to how much we miss the other.”

“But my life is so much better now than it was without you in it!”

“Even now? Grantaire, this is hellish.”

“I know, but… I can’t help but think that if we slow down now, we’ll completely burn out.”

Enjolras could hear the spiral in Grantaire’s voice, and tried his best to soothe him over the long distance. “We’ll be fine. You’ll come home the night before friendsgiving, and then we’ll act like a married couple at thanksgiving, and then someday we’ll be really married and happy even when we’re apart. Okay?”

Grantaire closed his eyes. “So how do we start?”

“Maybe tonight at the gig, you picture Joly and Bossuet dancing in the crowd instead of me. Get a drink with Eponine and then get some sleep.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I think I’m going to work on an ABC project with Ferre, and then maybe go to a movie with Feuilly and Bahorel.”

“Have you not being doing those things already?”

“No.” The vulnerability in Enjolras’s voice struck Grantaire. “I have done nothing but work since you’ve left. It’s funny, even though we were so busy when you were home, the few hours each day we got to be together made it worthwhile. So I’m trying to find other things to look forward to to fill up those hours.”

“That… might actually be smart,” Grantaire admitted.

“I have been known to have good ideas on occasion.”

“God, I’ve missed that,” Grantaire laughed. “Your lips purse a certain way when you give a rebuttal, and I always want to kiss them.”

Enjolras was quiet. Then he said, “This isn’t going to work if you say things like that.”

“I’m sorry! I am filled with love for my miraculous boyfriend!” Grantaire shouted, raising his free arm in the air.

Enjolras couldn’t keep his smile from appearing. “Listen. Have fun tonight, okay? I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“I still don’t really understand how this is a break.”

“Maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s… just a break from our connected life. Not a break from us.”

“If I were Jehan, maybe that would make sense.”

“Ask him about it, then. Then talk about how excited you are for the next city.”

“Only if you take a shower and go to bed at a reasonable hour, you hypocrite. By the way, did you take the nap I told you to take?”

“I tried. I lay awake for a while, since the bed is still weird without you. But I got a good twenty minutes when Marissa curled up with me.”

“I told you she’d be good for you.”

“You were right.”

Grantaire gasped. “What was that? I have never heard such words come out of your beautiful mouth!!”

Enjolras rolled his eyes, knowing as he did that Grantaire could tell on the other end of the line. “Oh, stop.”

They were interrupted by a bang on Grantaire’s hotel door. When he stood and opened it, he found Eponine and Jehan.

“Get in loser, we’re going shopping. And by shopping, I mean some weird historical antique shop that Jehan found.”

“There are only three of its kind in the whole country!” Jehan said excitedly.

Grantaire furrowed his brow suspiciously. “This smells like a friend plot.”

Hearing this on the phone, Enjolras said, “Can confirm. Combeferre is at my door with Courfeyrac. They sent me about fifty texts about working on our campaign at this new vegetarian place downtown.”

Grantaire gave Jehan and Eponine a look. “We know what you’re up to.”

“And?” Eponine said, raising an eyebrow. “We’re your friends, and we know best. Now say goodbye to loverboy and come on!”

Grantaire chuckled. “I am being forcibly pulled away from you.”

“Are you going to be okay?” Enjolras asked, concern trailing in every word.

“I’ll be fine, Apollo,” Grantaire said softly. “And you should do the same. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

And so they hung up their phones, and went out into the world with their friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of my favorite ships really work with this song ("Beautiful Trauma" by P!nk), which might say something about my taste. As always, more songs for these two [here.](https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/4sbnzJlJ6p1QSY0Glp7mfF)


	18. Youth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twas the day before Friendsgiving, and Enjolras and Grantaire reunite.

“My youth is yours.”

November 2021

“Yeah, of course I know they’re coming home tonight,” Enjolras said on the phone to Courfeyrac, as he walked briskly in the cold air to his next class. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh,” Courfeyrac said, surprised. “I just thought, you know, you’d skip class or something to be there when R gets home. That’s what I’m doing for Jehan, at least.”

“We’re trying to live our lives as normally as possible. And normal me would almost never skip a class.”

“That is true,” Courfeyrac admitted. “Does he know that he’ll be home first?”

“He should. My schedule hasn’t changed that much since last semester.” Enjolras got to the building of his Psych class and ducked inside, making his way to the lecture hall and plopping his backpack in his usual front seat. “I’ve gotta go, Courf. I’ll see you at Friendsgiving tomorrow?”

“Yup. See you!”

Grantaire stood outside their apartment door, key in one hand and suitcase in the other. He took a deep breath. Enjolras would be there, waiting for him on the couch, probably, or pacing. Would it be awkward? Romantic? Relieving?

“Here goes nothing,” Grantaire muttered, shoving the key in the hole and opening the door.

“Hello?” he called.

A small “meow” reached his ears, and Marissa came running to rub against his legs. He dropped his suitcase by the doorframe and shoved his key in his pocket.

“Hey, girl,” he cooed, bending down to pet her. “Where’s your daddy?”

She purred, seemingly unconcerned with anything on Grantaire’s mind.

He stood up, peering around the living room and kitchen, and stepping over to the bedroom to knock on the door. “Enjolras?”

No answer.

He tried the same thing with the bathroom, to no avail. Heart rate increasing slightly, he glanced frantically around the apartment for a note, perhaps one that said, “I left because I don’t love you anymore.”

No such note occurred. Unsure of what else to do, he slumped onto the couch and called Eponine.

“Enjolras isn’t here,” he said into the phone, before she even had a chance to say hello. “He’s gone.”

“Hold up. What do you mean he’s gone?”

“I’m here at the apartment and he’s not there.”

Eponine breathed loudly through her nose, and Grantaire could imagine her placing her fingers on the bridge of her nose. “Have you texted him?”

“No. What if he’s ignoring me?”

“R. You fucking dumbass. Enjolras is probably in _class.”_

Grantaire thought about this. “I would’ve thought he’d want to be here when I got home.”

“Maybe he had a presentation or something. I don’t know. What I do know, is you need to text him and be like, ‘hey, just got home.’ You’re way overreacting. It’s _Enjolras._ Is he the kind of person to cut class, or work, or a meeting, for anything?”

“He skipped when he was worried about my alcoholism,” Grantaire said quietly. “After I was MIA, and we had that fight.”

“I would have skipped, too,” Eponine said. “I was ready to dismember you. But these are completely different situations. That time, he was worried sick about you. Now, he knows you’ll be there when he gets home.”

“I guess,” Grantaire replied.

“Look, if you’re disappointed, tell him,” she instructed. “Now, I love you, but I have to go get a pedicure with Cosette and Musichetta. They said it was mandatory.”

“Okay, Ep. Thank you.”

“Text him, you cretin,” Eponine replied fondly. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Grantaire hung up, and went to text Enjolras.

**_Hey, just got home_** _._

_Hey! I get out of class at 4. I can’t wait to see you._

_**Texting in class, Apollo? That’s not like you**. _

_I’m at the very front, too. You’ve got to admire my nerve._

_**Oh, I do.**_

Marissa hopped onto the couch for Grantaire, and he stretched his legs to make room for her on his lap. “How ‘bout a nap before our favorite person shows up?” he said to her, yanking his beanie over his eyes and slouching into the cushions.

Enjolras stood outside their apartment door, key in hand, and the other one clutching the strap of his backpack.

“I hope he’s not pissed at me,” he mumbled, putting the key into the hole and stepping inside.

“R?”

He was greeted, not by an angry lover or an adoring boyfriend, but by the sight of Grantaire completely zonked out on the couch, Marissa asleep on his chest.

Enjolras couldn’t help but smile, and stood there for a few moments with his heart swelling. Then he carefully set his backpack down on the kitchen table, and stepped into their bedroom to grab a blanket from their bed. He lay it over Grantaire’s legs, and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Since it was the start of Thanksgiving break, Enjolras couldn’t for once, be bothered to get a head start on his homework. So he brewed a pot of coffee in the kitchen, and when it was finished, took his mug and settled on the floor with his back to the couch.

Grantaire’s well-worn copy of _The Golden Compass_ had been lying idle on their coffee table for quite some time, so Enjolras took it and flipped through the pages, before folding back the cover and reading the novel with one hand and sipping his drink with the other.

By the time Grantaire opened his eyes, the light in the apartment was almost entirely gone, and Enjolras was reading with squinted eyes. He pulled his beanie up and looked down at the back of Enjolras’s head on the floor in front of him. 

“Hey.”

Enjolras jolted, looking behind him at Grantaire. “Oh, you startled me.”

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re fine,” Enjolras said, carefully marking his page in the book with a dog-ear that always drove Combeferre crazy. He set it in the floor next to him and stood up, before casually lifting Grantaire’s feet and sitting at the end of the couch where they were, placing his feet back over his lap.

“That might be the most domestic thing you’ve ever done,” Grantaire said, and Enjolras laughed.

“Didn’t want to disturb the cat with you standing, and that is the first priority, of course.”

“Of course,” Grantaire nodded.

They sat in silence for a moment. Then, Enjolras said, “I’m so glad you’re home.”

“Fuck this cat!” Grantaire said decidedly, as he gently scooped her off his chest and set her on the floor. He then lifted his legs off of Enjolras and scooted closer to him, wrapping his arms around the other man’s shoulders.

Enjolras leaned into Grantaire and rested his head against his. “It feels like home again.”

“That was honestly the first time I’ve slept in a while,” Grantaire admitted.

Enjolras tenderly put a hand on the side of Grantaire’s face and kissed him.

“Though I have to tell you,” Grantaire said as they pulled apart. “I was kind of hoping you’d be here when I got here.”

Enjolras raised his eyebrows. “Oh, I thought you knew I had class.”

“I wasn’t really thinking about it.”

Enjolras understood the darkness that was clouding in Grantaire’s eyes. “Hey. Next time, I’ll be at the airport or the bus station or wherever with a big cheesy sign.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Grantaire sighed. “I know we were trying to take a break from missing each other, and you waiting around for me to get home would definitely not have helped with that.”

“Yeah,” Enjolras agreed, taking Grantaire’s hand. “We’ve been kind of messed up these past few months.”

They moved away from each other a few inches on the couch, so they could actually look at each other and talk rather than just hold each other. But their knees bumped, and Enjolras kept a tight hold on Grantaire’s hand.

“It’s a disaster. Enj, I actually thought, when you weren’t here when I got home, that you’d up and left me.” Grantaire let out a nervous laugh. “Can you believe that?”

“No, I can’t,” Enjolras said, frowning. “Why would you think that?”

“Insecurities, I guess. By the way, do you think we have time to go to therapy before we meet your parents?”

Grantaire had been joking, but Enjolras tilted his head in consideration. “Probably not, but we can try.”

There was a beat of silence, then Grantaire said, “So, what do you think we should do for next time?”

“Honestly, I want to check with our therapist first, but I think not making a huge deal out of it is a start,” Enjolras said. “I mean, it sucks, so badly, but we can manage. We can set specific times to videochat, and maybe try going to sleep at the same time every night.”

“That’s… actually a really good idea,” Grantaire said, thinking about it. “If I know that you’re in bed when I am, it’ll be easier to pretend you’re with me, and just in the bathroom or something.”

“And there’s always the sunset,” Enjolras reminded him.

Grantaire smiled. “I think about you every time I see one, babe.”

“We obviously can’t make it work for all of them, but maybe we can pick, like, a Sunday, and plan on being on the phone together while we watch,” Enjolras said excitedly, his eyes lighting up. “It’ll still be our phone voice, but at least it’ll be something to hold on to.”

Grantaire chuckled. “We were so emo about Paris.”

“But at least we were taking care of ourselves,” Enjolras said, his tone turning serious. “I don’t ever want to feel that helpless again. I had every possible way of contacting you, and yet I felt more alone than I’d ever been.”

“Even in Paris?” Grantaire asked, raising an eyebrow. “You had no one there.”

“I knew my friends loved me, even far away,” Enjolras shrugged. “And I knew you and I had the sunset.”

He leaned in and pressed his forehead onto Grantaire’s. “We need to find our sunset again.”

Grantaire kissed his mouth, and the two tangled into each other, before standing and falling into the bed in their room. Clothes abandoned before they even realized they were gone, Enjolras and Grantaire came together in the way they had been missing for a long time.

Later, they lay together, sticky with sweat and arms wrapped around each other’s torsos. Enjolras had his head on Grantaire’s chest, and Grantaire stroked his curls the way he had the morning before he left.

“Do you think the pizza guy will deliver to us in bed?” Grantaire asked, and Enjolras snorted.

“I wish.” Enjolras sat up, ignoring Grantaire’s whine of protest. He got out of bed and picked up his jeans from the ground, pulling the cell phone from its pocket. Then, Enjolras crawled back into bed beside Grantaire, and called the pizza delivery service while Grantaire, distractingly, pressed lazy kisses to the side of his face.

“It’ll be here in twenty-five minutes,” he reported, setting his phone on the nightstand.

Grantaire nodded. Then he said, “Are we bringing something for friendsgiving tomorrow?”

“I seem to remember you promising to make something with me.”

“Oh fuck, you’re right,” Grantaire groaned. “What did I say? Apples?”

“I think so. Okay, tomorrow morning we have to go to the store and buy the ingredients, then spend like an hour making them. What time is friendsgiving?”

“Four.”

“Gotcha. We’ll have plenty of time.” Not long after, they were interrupted by the doorbell ringing, to which Grantaire slid out of bed and pulled on Enjolras’s discarded jeans before heading to the door. When he returned, he was carrying two white pizza boxes and a cheeky grin.

“What is it?” Enjolras asked, a smile creeping onto his lips.

“That elderly woman was not prepared for a shirtless, disheveled man who’d clearly just been fucked to answer the door,” Grantaire laughed. “I gave her a good tip to make up for the shock.”

He set the boxes on the foot of the bed, and gave Enjolras a pointed look. “Are we breaking the ‘no-eating-in-bed’ rule tonight?”

“Hmmm… fine. Just get the paper towel roll from the kitchen,” Enjolras instructed, to which Grantaire obliged.

And so they sat together in bed, shoulder to shoulder, almost entirely naked, munching on greasy pizza with paper towels spread over the blankets.

“I’ve missed this, too,” Enjolras said, shooing Marissa as she hopped up and tried to stick her head in the pizza box.

Grantaire shook his head disapprovingly. “Aren’t we supposed to make this not a big deal? So a few months from now you're not like, ‘fuck, I wish I were getting crumbs in the bed with Grantaire right about now.’”

“I’m sorry! I can’t help it,” Enjolras sighed. “You’ve turned me sentimental.”

“Please. You’ve kept every gift Courf and Ferre have given you since your fifth birthday. Sentimental is your middle name.” Grantaire pressed a sloppy kiss to his shoulder to show what a good thing this was.

“I just want to be realistic here,” he said, and Grantaire felt his stomach drop slightly.

“Well,” he said, ignoring his worry as he did, “there’s nothing we can solve tonight. Let’s just enjoy being here while we’ve got it.”

They finished their food and cleaned up, before brushing their teeth and sliding back into their rumpled bed. This time, Enjolras pulled Grantaire to his chest.

With Enjolras’s arms around him and the beat of his heart in his ears, Grantaire slept deeper than he had in months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Youth" is by Troye Sivan. Does this still apply to these characters in their early/mid-twenties? I say yes. More bops [here!](https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/4sbnzJlJ6p1QSY0Glp7mfF)


	19. Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very special Friendsgiving with the amis.

“Ladies and gentlemen/Will you please stand?

With every guitar string scar on my hand/

I take this magnetic force of a man to be my/lover”

He awoke later in the morning, as gently as if the sun had nudged him with her hand. In reality, it was Enjolras’s soft kiss to the top of his head and careful unentangling that prompted him to lazily open his eyes.

“Morning, sunshine,” Enjolras smiled, pulling on his robe as he started towards the coffee maker in the kitchen.

“Morning. Remind me why we’re up?” Grantaire asked, stretching.

“We have to go to the store and get cinnamon apple ingredients,” Enjolras said. “Oh, and happy Friendsgiving!”

“Happy Friendsgiving,” Grantaire mumbled back.

Enjolras returned with two mugs of coffee a few minutes later, and handed one to Grantaire. They drank them greedily, the way only true caffeine addicts do. 

“I’m going to take a quick shower, and then we can head out,” Enjolras told him.

“Funny, I was thinking I needed a shower too…” Grantaire said, tilting his head in a façade of innocence.

Enjolras gave him a look. “We do have to get going…”

“So we’ll save water and time!” Grantaire protested, and Enjolras relented and pulled his boyfriend towards the bathroom.

After they were showered, with only a couple of distractions (both of which involving Grantaire’s greedy mouth), the pair got dressed and grabbed bagels from the toaster on the way to Enjolras’s car.

“What do we need, exactly?” Enjolras asked.

“Apples, cinnamon, sugar, butter, nutmeg, and cranberries if you want to get really fancy.”

Two hours later they were back at home, and Grantaire had his arms around Enjolras’s waist as the other man tried to stir the sautéing apples in the pan over the stove.

“I appreciate your guidance, but I think I know how to stir,” Enjolras chuckled, and Grantaire nipped at his neck before pulling away.

“Oh, fine. There’s not much for me to do anyway now that all the ingredients are mixed in. You just keep stirring until they’re soft,” Grantaire said, leaning against the counter messy with apple cores, measuring cups, and bags of sugar.

“You could clean some stuff up, you know.”

“Or I could put on Christmas music!” Grantaire said brightly, taking his phone out from his pocket and pulling up Spotify.

Enjolras frowned as he continued to stir, watching the sliced apples turn brown from the cinnamon and butter. “It’s not Thanksgiving yet. You know my rule.”

Grantaire pouted. “It’s not even a month away! And today is kind of Thanksgiving, you know.”

Enjolras sighed and waved his free hand at Grantaire. “Do what you want. I just won’t enjoy it.”

“That’s not how we roll, babe,” Grantaire teased, and he set his phone on the counter as music began playing. “Oh hell yeah, I love this song!” he exclaimed as the opening notes began, and started swaying his hips and signing along.

_the snow's comin' down/(Christmas)/ I'm watchin' it fall_

_(Christmas)/ lots of people around/ (Christmas)_

“ _Baby, please come home_ ,” Grantaire sang, grabbing Enjolras’s free hand and twirling himself under it.

Enjolras stared at him with full eyes, and then looked back at the stove and turned it off. He stepped away and pulled his hand out of Grantaire’s grasp only to hang both his arms over Grantaire’s shoulders and dance along with him.

Grantaire wrapped his arms around Enjolras’s waist, and they, awkwardly and perfectly, spun one another around the kitchen to the music.

“ _The church bells in town/ are ringing in song_ ,” Grantaire continued, smiling up at his lover as he sang.

Enjolras did not by any means have perfect pitch, but he jumped in with, the background Christmases.

At the next “ _Baby, please come home_ ,” Enjolras took Grantaire’s hand and gave him a real twirl this time, making the other man bump into the counter and laugh.

“You know those apples are definitely not ready,” Grantaire said as they fell back into a rhythmic sway.

Enjolras shrugged. “We’ll turn the stove back on when the song’s over.”

And so they laughed and danced around the kitchen, always having some part touching, whether it was Grantaire’s hand on Enjolras’s hip or Enjolras stepping on Grantaire’s toes by accident. Their smiles were even wider and more flushed than when they exited the shower together that morning.

The song ended and melted into “All I want for Christmas is You,” which of course made Grantaire go, “Oh, fuck yeah!” and strike a dramatic pose as he and Enjolras broke apart.

Enjolras rolled his eyes fondly as he returned to the stove, where the slices of apple were now sitting in lukewarm butter and sugar. “I’m guessing these might not be as good now.”

But they were. The couple finished up and made it to Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta’s by 4:03, causing only a slight disagreement in the car about running late.

They were greeted at the door, not by one of the hosts, but by Courfeyrac, who was wearing sweatpants extremely stretched at the waist and a sweater with the Radio City Rockettes on it.

“Merry Friendsgiving, bitches!” he said cheerfully, holding open the door and letting them inside. Enjolras held the large bowel of apples in both hands, and Grantaire carried a bottle of sparkling apple cider.

Musichetta quickly appeared, pulling the bowel from Enjolras’s hands. “Hi guys! Thank you for coming! I’ll set this on the table for ya. Does it need to be reheated?”

“Maybe a little. Can I help with anything?” Enjolras asked, taking off his coat and laying it on their couch with several others.

“Oh, no, we’re fine,” Musichetta said, waving her hand. “Thanks, though.”

Enjolras ignored this, exactly as Grantaire knew he would, and followed Chetta into the kitchen, where Joly was checking the turkey in the oven.

Grantaire set his bottle on the counter in the kitchen next to bottles of wine, and then returned into the living room where his friends were chatting and munching on appetizers.

“How the hell did you get here before us?” Grantaire asked Courfeyrac, who was standing by the door with Bossuet, wine glasses in hand.

“The gang asked me to be on door duty,” Courfeyrac explained. “So Jehan and I got here a little earlier.”

“It was my job until I burned my hand by pulling the rolls out of the oven without a mitt,” Bossuet added sheepishly. “Now my job is to keep an ice pack pressed to my wound.”

Grantaire had noticed the bag of frozen peas pressed to Bossuet’s palm, but had assumed he had forgotten to cook them. “Ouch. Sorry, Boss.”

Seated on the couch were Bahorel, Feuilly, Eponine, and Combeferre, who were arguing joyfully about the football game. Jehan perched on the armchair, watching not the screen but his friends’ antics with an amused smile.

“That was safe, and he knows it!” Bahorel said hotly.

“I can’t believe this,” Eponine huffed, and Combeferre patted her knee in consolation.

Musichetta came rushing out of the kitchen, her hair beginning to frizz from the heat. “What happened? What’d I miss?”

“The ref is a moron!” Eponine screeched, and she would have carried on if not for the doorbell ringing. 

Grantaire was closer to the door and would have answered it, but Courfeyrac practically shoved Grantaire out of the way in his haste to answer it.

“Happy Friendsgiving!” Cosette grinned, coming inside with Marius in tow. She carried a plastic bag that clanked as she walked.

“Is that my pie?” Bahorel called, abandoning the game to turn to Cosette.

She pulled a pumpkin one from the top of the bag and held it up. “Fresh from the bakery! There’s another pumpkin, and an apple and a cherry, too.”

Bahorel groaned in appreciation, and stood up to pull a few crumpled bills from his pocket. “God bless you, Cosette Fauchelvet.”

“Actually…” she said, with a sly glance at Marius. He beamed at her, and stepped over to the kitchen to set down his container of sweet potatoes.

Cosette pulled off her glove to reveal a diamond ring. “Soon to be Pontmercy!”

They heard Musichetta’s screech in the kitchen, and she came running into the room to engulf her friend in a hug, Enjolras and Joly not far behind.

“Aren’t there things cooking in there?” Feuilly asked, looking back and forth between the kitchen door and living room, but no one heard him.

“I am so excited for you!” Musichetta said, now holding onto Cosette’s hand to examine the ring. “How did it go? Did he ask your dad?”

“He did! And almost peed himself,” Cosette said, laughing appreciatively. 

Grantaire watched Eponine carefully as she hopped up from the couch, but her smile was genuine as she hugged Cosette, and then Marius when he came back from the kitchen.

“When did it happen?” Courfeyrac asked, jumping in place. “How did it happen?”

“We were finishing up the Turkey Trot charity race,” Cosette began, and everyone circled around her. Marius was almost pushed to the side, but he didn’t look like he minded. “And the sun was just getting bright, and he started talking about how great it was to be with me, and then got down on one knee by the field at the end of the race!”

Joly sighed. “That’s beautiful.”

“Congratulations again!” Enjolras said, pressing a quick kiss to the side of Cosette’s head. “You will have the most gorgeous wedding of all time, I am sure of that.”

Grantaire saw Eponine quietly excuse herself, and step towards the kitchen. He quickly left the circle to follow her, as the group was now eagerly discussing wedding plans.

He found Eponine pouring herself a glass of wine by the counter. Closing the door behind him, he said, “Hey. You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, turning around to face him. “It’s been years since I’ve had any hope for that."

Grantaire nodded slowly. “Okaaaaay. Any particular reason you’re hiding out in the kitchen then?”

“No!” Eponine said forcefully. At Grantaire’s pointed look, she sighed.

“Actually… something happened.”

“Are you okay?” Grantaire asked again, stepping closer to his best friend.

“Yes. Great. IhadsexwithCombeferrelastnight.” She said the last sentence in a rush, as if she couldn’t believe they were coming from her.

If Grantaire had been drinking, he would have spat it out. “ _What?!_ Say that again?”

“I had sex with Combeferre last night,” Eponine said clearly, her cheeks reddening.

“Well, shit! What happened? Was it good?” Grantaire said, pressing a hand to his forehead.

“Well, we were just hanging out on the couch like we always do, and I said something about how nice it was to live with him, and he agreed, and then he called me an ‘incredible person’ or something, and next thing I knew we were kissing!” Eponine recalled. “It felt… really good.”

Grantaire looked at her in wonder. “I did not see this coming at all. You’re full of surprises, Eponine Thernadier.”

“I don’t know what it was!” Eponine exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. “Being with him was hot, but it also felt like _home._ Like I was supposed to be there. Do you know what I mean? That probably sounds stupid.”

Grantaire shook his head, a wide smile spreading over his cheeks. “Believe me, Ep, I know exactly what you mean. C’mere.”

She set her drink down as he pulled her into a quick hug. “I’m really happy for you!” he said. “Truly. You deserve someone who’s good to you, and you can’t find a better man than Ferre. Besides my boyfriend, of course, but he’s unavailable.” 

“It was really awkward this morning, though,” Eponine muttered. “We didn’t talk about it because we didn’t know what to make of it. We’ve barely said a word all day.”

Back in the living room, Combeferre pulled Enjolras aside from the circle. “I have to tell you something.”

“What?” Enjolras said, but followed Combeferre into the bedroom when he noticed the kitchen door was closed.

In the quiet of Joly and Bossuet’s room, Combeferre took a deep breath.

“I think I’m in love with Eponine.”

Enjolras gaped at him. “Say that again?”

“I’m in love with Eponine,” Combeferre repeated, with more conviction this time.

“Have you told her? How do you know?” Enjolras said, sitting down on the bed. He felt almost dizzy.

“No, I haven’t told her yet. But I’ve been thinking it for a long time, because she’s like my favorite person to talk to and I love being around her, and last night-“

“There’s a last night?” Enjolras interrupted.

“We… hooked up,” Combeferre faltered, seeming to dislike his word choice. “It just happened; we didn’t plan it. But now she won’t even look at me.”

Enjolras frowned. “Do you think she doesn’t feel the same way?”

“I have no idea,” Combeferre said, sitting down next to Enjolras and hanging his head. “She’s been in love with Marius for so long that I’m wondering if I’m the second string.”

Enjolras scoffed. “You’re the best man I know, far above Marius. And that’s not being mean, because I’d say that above almost everyone.”

Combeferre laughed softly.

“Just talk to her,” Enjolras continued. “Or I can ask R. I’m sure she’s confided in him about it.”

“Wouldn’t he have told you before if she had?”

Enjolras shrugged. “Best friend confidentiality. I wouldn’t really mind if he’d kept something like that. Though, now that I think about it, Grantaire has never been one to keep things like that from me. He came home screeching the night _before_ Jehan asked Courf to move in with him.”

Combeferre sighed. “Now we just have to get through this dinner. It’s not like we can talk with everyone around.”

“Yeah,” Enjolras agreed. “Just act like everything is normal, to the best of your ability. You can talk when you get home.”

“Thanks, Enj,” Combeferre said. “Sorry to literally pull you into this. It was eating away at me.”

“You and Courf were the first people I told when I thought I felt anything for Grantaire,” Enjolras pointed out. “That’s what friends are here for.”

“I did think about telling Courf too, but he would not be able to keep a straight face throughout the night.”

“Definitely not.”

A knock on the door made them look over. Bossuet’s voice called, “Dinner’s ready whenever you guys are!”

Combeferre let out another deep sigh and stood up, and Enjolras followed his lead.

“It’ll be okay, Ferre,” Enjolras said, patting his shoulder. He went to the door and opened it, and as they came outside he saw most of his friends seated around the table, with Joly, Musichetta, and Cosette bringing in food from the kitchen.

Grantaire was standing just outside the kitchen door with Eponine, and Combeferre immediately grabbed a free spot at the table to talk to Jehan.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” Eponine muttered, and she rushed off in the other direction.

Grantaire found his way to Enjolras’s side, and the pair spoke in whispers amidst the clang and chatter around them.

“Did Ferre say anything to you about Ep?” Grantaire said out of the side of his mouth.

“Oh, yeah. I’m guessing she did too?”

Grantaire nodded. “So you know what happened last night?”

“Yeah,” Enjolras murmured. “From Ferre’s point, at least.”

Grantaire whistled. “Holy hell.”

“Yeah. I’m kind of surprised we didn’t see it coming.”

“That’s one way of looking at it. I’m kind of pissed they never confided in us before this!”

Grantaire couldn’t finish his thought, as Musichetta hit her wine glass with a spoon three times to get everyone’s attention. “Dinner is on the table, everyone!”

Enjolras sat at the right of the table next to Combeferre, and Grantaire sat on his left. At the end of the table were Courfeyrac and Jehan, and across from Grantaire and Enjolras sat Joly, Bossuet, Musichetta, Feuilly, and Bahorel. They looked a little cramped all together, but the trio usually sat so close together anyway that they didn’t seem to mind. Bahorel and Feuilly were, as usual, not quite touching, but close.

At the other end of the table sat Marius and Cosette, and Joly’s insistence. Cosette had blushed furiously when Joly told her to sit at the end to celebrate, and Marius took her hand and pulled her next to him at the head with a smile.

Eponine returned from the bathroom a moment later, the strands of dark hair around her face damp as if she had splashed water on them. She took the open seat next to Grantaire, and he and Enjolras instantly had the thought of how awkward it might be for them to sit in between her and Combeferre.

Joly cleared his throat. “We wanted to thank you all for coming today. It was a lot of work to make this spread-“

“And fully clean the apartment!” Bossuet chimed in.

“But it was a labor of love. Cheers!” Joly lifted his wine glass, and everyone repeated his word and clinked their drinks together.

“Can we get a round of applause for JBM for hosting, please?” Bahorel said loudly, and the group happily obliged.

“We’re happy to do it. Happy Friendsgiving, everyone!” Musichetta grinned, and at that plates of food began being passed down the rows, and people began digging into their meals.

“Chetta, did you make this cranberry sauce?” Jehan asked, scooping up another gob on his fork. “It’s fantastic.”

“I did!” she said, nodding. “I know Boss loves the canned kind, but my grandmother and I would always make it fresh together every year.”

“Enjolras actually helped me make these apples,” Grantaire said, passing their bowel down. “If you can believe that.”

Courfeyrac snorted. “Enjolras can’t even boil water. We tried to make Ramen in our dorm our freshman year, and couldn’t even accomplish that.”

“We didn’t even have a stove!” Enjolras protested. “You were high and told me we could do it with hot water from the bathroom sink.”

“But you believed me!” Courfeyrac countered, and the table burst into laughter.

“The apples are so good!” Cosette said after taking a bite. “You guys did a really good job.”

Courfeyrac cautiously picked one slice up with his fork and took his own bite. Mouth full, he said, “Well, I’ll be damned. She’s right!”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Enjolras laughed.

Grantaire glanced at Eponine next to him and saw her desperately trying to not look over at Combeferre.

“So, Ep, are you seeing your siblings at all tomorrow?” Grantaire asked, trying to bring her stress levels down.

Eponine startled, then nodded. “Yeah. Our parents never really did anything for Thanksgiving, so Gav and Azelma and I would always go to IHOP. I don’t know why, since it’s kind of disgusting, but that’s what we did.”

“That sounds nice,” Combeferre said, smiling at Eponine in that soft way of his, making Enjolras and Grantaire feel like they should get out of his way.

“It’s sad,” Eponine corrected him. “But it’s what we’ve always done.”

“Marius and I have double-duty thanksgiving tomorrow,” Cosette said, pouring gravy on her mashed potatoes. “First brunch with his grandfather’s family, then dinner with Papa.”

“Maybe when we’re married, we can combine the two,” Marius suggested, and the smile that passed Cosette’s face when he said ‘married’ was bright enough to fill the entire room.

Enjolras leaned into Grantaire and whispered, “Is there anyone else here with some big relationship news?”

“Hmmmm…” Grantaire peered around the table at his friends, then stopped directly across from him. “I’ll bet you ten bucks that Baz and Feuilly are either fucking, or wishing they were.”

Enjolras shook his head. “There’s no way.”

As Bahorel finished the turkey on his plate, he took his fork and scooped some off of Feuilly’s. With Feuilly’s pale skin, even the slightest blush was noticeable to Grantaire.

“Told you.”

The evening continued pleasantly, with the friends talking and laughing together until dishes had to be put away and pies brought out. Bahorel, as promised, got his full pumpkin, and only Feuilly was allowed to take a bite of it.

In the car on the way home, both Enjolras and Grantaire’s phones buzzed at the same time. Enjolras couldn’t check his while driving, but Grantaire pulled his out, and the brightness of the screen lit up his face in the dark.

“What’s it say?” Enjolras asked, his eyes darting from the road to the phone.

“Ep wrote, ‘we talked.’ I’m just gonna type back, ‘and?’ with a shit ton of question marks.”

A few seconds later, his phone buzzed again. “Aw, hell,” Grantaire said, reading it.

“What? Is she okay? He loves her! Wait, does she not love him?” Enjolras gripped the wheel tightly in anticipation.

“She just sent back a smiley face emoji. For Ponine, that’s like a declaration of love.”

Enjolras let out of breath. “Will you tell her that I’m happy for her and Ferre, please?”

Grantaire sent it. When the next message came through, he said, “I can’t even read this one. Your sentimental ass will have to look at it when we get home.”

When they pulled into the parking lot in front of their building, Enjolras leaned over Grantaire’s shoulder and read the screen.

_Combeferre here. Honestly, I don’t know why we waited so long. But maybe that makes it better. It reminds me of you two. Happy friendsgiving!_

Enjolras kissed Grantaire’s stubbled cheek, and let his lips linger. “Do you ever think about how, even if our lives change, we’ll all still have had these years together? It’s kind of amazing how the people we love change us. Do you know what I mean?”

Grantaire chuckled, and looked for Enjolras’s blue eyes in the dark. “I don’t know about that. All I know is that, a few years ago, I fell in love with a scary, intimidating, magnetic force of a man, and now he’s sitting here with me, spewing on about how much he adores his friends. It’s kind of spectacular.”

Enjolras kissed his mouth, then said, “Let’s go inside and get to bed. There’s a long day ahead tomorrow.”

“I wish you said, ‘a long day of head’ instead.”

“We’ll see how well Thanksgiving goes,” Enjolras teased, stepping out of the car.

But when they were inside the apartment and Grantaire was pouring some dry food for Marissa, Enjolras felt his heart clench and drop into his stomach. He glanced at the bookshelf, where he knew a small box was nestled just behind his polysci textbook.

_We’ll see how Thanksgiving goes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Lover" is by Taylor Swift, and the song E and R dance to is my favorite Christmas song, "Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)" by Darlene Love. It may be July at the time of posting this, but I am feeling that holiday spirit. Just one more chapter to go! You can always review the past songs on the Origin of Love's [Spotify Playlist.](https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/4sbnzJlJ6p1QSY0Glp7mfF)


	20. The Origin of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras and Grantaire spend their Thanksgiving at E's family's house- well, part of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW- slight homophobia from conservative family members. Also, Enjolras's family name is Tveit because I'm basic and couldn't think of anything else. It was originally supposed to be a placeholder, but here we are.

“From the air I breathe/To the love I need  
Only thing I know /You're the origin of love”

In the car again the following morning, Grantaire was far from his usual self. He clutched his to-go cup of coffee in the passenger’s seat and stared straight ahead at the road in silence. Enjolras kept sparing glances over at him, so that their car was lightly swerving over the lines.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll make it through,” Grantaire said finally.

“It really means the world to me that you’re doing this, R. They don’t mean that much to me, but the fact that you’re willing to suffer with me says a lot.” He took his right hand off the wheel to briefly squeeze Grantaire’s knee.

“How much longer till we’re there?”

“About a half-hour. They’re just in Annapolis.” Enjolras glanced into his rearview mirror to change lanes. “And my cousins are pretty cool. It’s just my parents and my aunts and uncles and stuff you have to worry about.”

“Oh, I can’t wait,” Grantaire said under his breath.

Sooner than Grantaire would have liked, they pulled into the driveway of a large house decorated with classic Christmas garland and red velvet bows.

Grantaire smirked. “That must drive you crazy,” he said, getting out of the car and grabbing the second bowel of apples from his feet.

Enjolras groaned. “I’m pretty sure Dad decorates before Thanksgiving is over just to piss me off. Though we did listen to Christmas music yesterday, so I don’t know if I can complain.”

“True.”

They walked up the steps of the front porch, and Enjolras knocked on the door. Grantaire peered around the house, at the Lamborghinis and Porsches that decorated the lawn and driveway. His heart dropped so far into his stomach, he could practically hear the splash.

He turned instead to his boyfriend, who was dressed crisply in a white shirt with a red tie, and his curls were as tame as he’d ever seen them. Grantaire had tried to make an effort in a green sweater and a quick haircut from Eponine in the morning, but he had a strong suspicion that it would not compare to Enjolras’s family.

The door opened, and a woman with Enjolras’s blonde curls pulled atop her head greeted them

“Enjolras, I’m so glad you’re here!” she said, reaching out and giving him a tight hug.

“Thank you for having us, Mother,” Enjolras said politely. When they broke apart, the woman’s sharp eyes fell on Grantaire.

“This is my partner, Grantaire,” Enjolras introduced.

Grantaire stuck his free hand out. “It’s very nice to meet you, ma’am.”

She shook his hand quickly, as if it wasn’t quite worth her full attention. “Yes, and you as well, dear. I’m interested to hear how my son has been spending these last few years!”

“Oh, he’s been working very hard. I’m just along for the ride.”

“I see. Well, come in boys! Everyone is eager to see you again, Enjolras,” Mrs. Tveit said to her son, gesturing for them to enter the front room.

They stepped inside, and Grantaire gaped around them as Enjolras took off his coat. The front room and living room was immaculately decorated, but the real vision was the hardwood floors and high ceiling adorned with chandeliers.

“You really grew up here?” Grantaire muttered, as Enjolras took the bowel of apples from his hands so he could take off his own coat. 

Enjolras nodded. “It’s a lot, I know. I don’t even feel like myself when I come here.”

“Enjolras!” a girl’s voice called, and he was engulfed in a quick hug by a similar blonde.

“Hey, Lou,” he said, setting the apple bowel down. “How are you?”

“Wonderful! We’ve missed you so.” She beamed at him, and then turned to Grantaire. “And you must be his friend!” She gave him a brief squeeze as well.

Enjolras raised his eyebrow. “My boyfriend, actually. Grantaire, this is my cousin, Louisa.”

“Nice to meet you!” Grantaire began, but his voice faltered at Lou’s wavering smile.

“Oh. Aunt Edith said…” she started, but then shook her head. “Oh, well. Boyfriend it is. We’re glad you’re here! Let me take those coats.” She grabbed them from their hands and left to drop them off in the master bedroom.

“She seems sweet,” Grantaire said, turning to Enjolras, but the other man was fuming.

“Did my mother tell everyone that you’re just my _friend?”_ he hissed. “Oh, no. That is not how we’re doing tonight.”

“Enj, it’s fine, really,” Grantaire protested, but Enjolras grabbed his hand forcefully and pulled him into the dining room, where more of the family was gathered.

A chorus of elderly family members and cousins called his name in excitement, but Enjolras only had eyes for the dark-haired man standing at the end of the table, talking to who Grantaire assumed was Enjolras’s grandfather.

“Dad,” Enjolras said firmly.

His father raised his eyebrows and smiled. “Hey, kid!” he held out his hand for Enjolras to shake, but it was ignored.

“Well, I never,” a great aunt muttered.

“Where’s Mother?”

Mr. Tveit chuckled. “The boy doesn’t see me for two years and all he can do is ask where Edith is. Typical.” The surrounded party laughed.

Enjolras smiled tightly. “It’s very nice to see everyone. I just wanted to make sure we’re all on the same page about why we’re here.”

“To see your loving family?” His father suggested.

Enjolras scoffed. “My ‘loving family’ would accept that their only child is gay.”

The room suddenly quieted.

Grantaire took this opportunity to break the tension. He cleared his throat and said, “While I promise it was not my intention to corrupt your son, I will say that my life is infinitely better because of it. I’m Grantaire.” And, surprising himself, he held out a hand to Enjolras’s father.

“My partner,” Enjolras explained, as the two shook and his family members stared.

“Excuse me, everyone,” Mr. Tveit said with a smile, and then muttered to Enjolras, “On the terrace, please. Alone.”

He left the room, and Enjolras took Grantaire’s hand without a word and followed.

“Didn’t he say-“ Grantaire started, but Enjolras cut him off.

“I don’t give a shit what he says. I’m not going to comply with his perfect American family just because it makes them uncomfortable. That’s not me.”

And so they went outside onto the terrace, where both of Enjolras’s parents were waiting.

“I _told_ you the only way I would come was if I could bring Grantaire. That was my one condition,” Enjolras hissed.

“And so you did! I really don’t see what the problem is,” his mother huffed.

“Did you tell everyone that he’s my boyfriend?”

“We told them what was appropriate, Enjolras!” his father thundered. “There are elderly, traditional people here. You can be with a man, but there’s no need to flaunt it.”

Enjolras gaped. “I’m holding his hand. That’s considered flaunting?”

“Please, just let us have a nice meal!” Edith pleaded. “It should all be ready any minute, and we can just sit and thank God we’re together.”

“You are unbelievable.” Enjolras shook his head at his parents and opened the slider. He and Grantaire came back inside and seated themselves at the farthest end of the table they could get.

“Crap, we left the apples back there. I’ll grab them,” Grantaire said, standing up.

“Hey,” Enjolras said, taking ahold of his wrist. “Thank you for being here. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Grantaire leaned in and pressed a brief kiss to his lips. “I’ll try not to flaunt my complete and utter adoration of you.”

Back in the foyer, he bumped into Lou, who was picking the bowel of apples up.

“Hey, sorry about that, I was just coming to get them,” he said, taking them from her hands.

“No worries!” she said brightly.

As they walked back, she said quietly, “I hope you’re feeling okay here. They’re very… conservative.”

Grantaire shrugged. “Enjolras prepped me, so I’m doing okay, surprisingly. And it’s not forever, right?”

She furrowed her brow. “Do you not plan on staying with him?”

“What? No, no!” he said, flustered. “I’ll be with him as long as he’ll have me. I mean, we won’t be here, forever. That sounds really offensive now that I say it out loud.”

“No,” she chuckled. “I know what you mean. I love them because they’re my family, but it took a while for me to realize that there are other places to be in the world, too. My husband’s family are about as liberal as they come, and it was a joy and a shock to get to know them.”

They returned to the table, and she sat at Enjolras’s left with Grantaire at his right.

“Enjolras, please come sit up here next to your father,” his mother pointed to the seat adjacent to the one at the end of the table.

Enjolras stood, and nodded at Grantaire to stand, too. The took the two seats chosen for them, even as Edith began saying, “But that’s where Grandfather-“ she was silenced by Enjolras’s piercing look.

Grantaire looked down at his plate, and saw two forks on either side. “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Louisa silently got up from her seat and tapped a tall man on the shoulder, leading him to the two seats next to Grantaire.

“Grantaire, this is my husband, Joseph,” she introduced, and the men shook hands. She then murmured in Grantaire’s ear, “I figured you’d need a teammate for this family. Enjolras will be battling his dad all night, so we’ve got your back.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Grantaire mumbled back. “Is that how every Thanksgiving is?”

She nodded. “Just wait and see.”

Edith stood across from Enjolras, and tapped her class to get everyone’s attention. “Thank you all for coming. Now, my husband will say grace.”

“She used to try and get me to do it,” Enjolras muttered. Nonetheless, he took Grantaire’s and his father’s hands and closed his eyes. Grantaire held tight to him, and took Lou’s on his other side.

"Bless us, O Lord, and these Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Through Christ, our Lord. Amen."

“Amen,” the table resounded, save for Enjolras. Grantaire only said it to try and fit in at least a little bit.

Food began to be passed down, only it was much fancier than their humble Friendsgiving feast, with roast duck and lamb in addition to turkey.

“So, Grantaire,” Enjolras’s father said, cutting into his meat. “What do you do?”

Grantaire swallowed. “I’m in the music industry,” he said.

Enjolras tried to keep the smile from passing over his face.

“Like a producer? Or a composer?” Edith asked, taking a sip of wine.

Grantaire felt himself turning red, and reached for his own glass as well. “Writing, mostly. I play the piano and guitar as well.”

“That sounds wonderful!” Louisa exclaimed.

“It’s how we met, actually,” Enjolras said, the first true smile forming on his face. “A friend of mine was going out with the lead singer in his band, so I was dragged to the concert. But then I saw their keyboardist, and just fell head over heels.”

“Actually, you hated me at first,” Grantaire laughed.

Enjolras’s mother pursed her lips. “Interesting.”

“And you can support yourself, with this ‘band’ thing?” His father said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, sir. We get a decent commission from online sales and the tour. Plus Enjolras and I split the rent, so-“

Edith choked on her wine. “I’m sorry. Are you living together?”

Grantaire froze, and Enjolras jumped in. “Yes, we are. For a few years now.”

“I thought you lived with those boys you were friends with,” she said, waving a hand.

“Courfeyrac moved in with his boyfriend, so I switched with Grantaire’s roommate,” Enjolras explained.

“I would have expected better from your child, Edith,” a woman beside her sniffed. His mother nodded.

“Mom!” Lou exclaimed, shocked. “They’re obviously very happy. How can you say that?”

“Not now, Louisa,” the woman said, as if her daughter were a child. “Young man, I’m sure you’re very…” she said, directing her attention to Grantaire. Evidently, she could not even come up with a word to describe him. “But Enjolras is a special boy, and is going to make a lot of his life.”

“I know he’s special, ma’am,” Grantaire retorted quietly. “He’s the most special person I’ve ever met in my life.”

Enjolras looked back in forth between his mother and his father, waiting for them to say something.

“Did everyone see what Clinton said the other night?” His father began, changing the subject.

“That woman belongs in jail!” an uncle called from down the table.

Enjolras sighed heavily. “I don’t know what I expected.”

He stood, to the astonishment of everyone around him.

“Enjolras, honey, please sit down while we’re still eating,” his mother instructed.

He shook his head. “Thank you for the meal. But I would rather not spend the holiday in a place where the love of my life is attacked simply for being with me.” His voice was waving with anger.

“I’m okay, Enj, really,” Grantaire said softly. “Please don’t leave on my account.”

He shook his head again. “I can’t be here.” He walked over to Louisa and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “It was great to see you again, Lou.”

“You too, Enj. Maybe the four of us can get lunch together sometime?”

“I’d love that.” Enjolras held out his hand to Grantaire, and he took it and stood up. “Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.”

“Enjolras, please don’t go,” his mother cried. “Grantaire can stay, too.”

“For now? Or forever?” he countered. “I’m marrying him someday, Mother. We can only be here if you’re okay with that.”

His father made a noise that could have been covering up a snort.

“Dad?” Enjolras turned.

“I didn’t want to do this, Enjolras. But you’re acting up just like you did as a teenager.”

“What?” Enjolras said, clenching Grantaire’s hand so tightly he felt it turning blue.

“Aren’t you a little old for a rebelliousness phase?” Mr. Tveit sneered. “You’re just trying to make this difficult for us, and I can’t understand why. We’re your family and we love you. And we’ll be right here when you meet a nice girl and settle down.”

Enjolras’s jaw dropped. Grantaire had never, in all his time with Enjolras, seen the man so dumbfounded. He expected him to clap back, like he always did, but Enjolras stayed silent.

“I’m sorry I’m not the nice daughter-in-law you wanted,” Grantaire said finally, addressing the family. “But I’m not sorry for being in love with your son.” And he gently pulled Enjolras away from the table and towards the front door.

Louisa quickly got up and retrieved their coats. She hugged Enjolras tightly, and the Grantaire. “I’m so sorry it has to be this way,” she said tearfully.

Grantaire shrugged. “We have a family waiting for us at home. But thank you for everything.”

She waved goodbye, and the couple descended out the door and onto the driveway, where snow was just beginning to flurry in the moonlight.

“I hope they know they’re never meeting their grandchildren,” Enjolras said finally.

Grantaire rubbed his partner's back. “I’m sorry, love. I know you really wanted this to go well.”

“I don’t know why it hurts,” Enjorlas sighed. “They haven’t accepted me since I was fifteen. But I thought tonight would be different. I don’t know why.”

He stopped in the driveway in front of their car, and turned to Grantaire, leaning in and softly resting his forehead on his.

“They’re your blood. Of course you want them to love you.”

“Even if they’re hateful?”

“Especially so.”

Enjolras was quiet for a moment. Then he said, “I really do love you with all I have.”

Grantaire smiled softly. “I know. I love you too.”

Enjolras’s blue eyes seemed to grow brighter, even in the dim Christmas lighting. “I wanted to do this way differently,” he murmured. “I don’t even have it with me. But…” he stepped away from Grantaire, and got down on one knee.

“Holy shit!” Grantaire swore, covering his mouth with his hand.

Enjolras looked, in his eyes, like an angel at prayer, on one knee on the asphalt with snowflakes falling into his curls and twinkly lights illuminating him.

He took Grantaire's other hand. “Grantaire, I have a ring for you, but it’s at home because I didn’t think I’d do this tonight. I had a way more romantic plan. But I… I know I want to spend forever with you, even with evil family members and fights and tours and therapy and all the other crap we’ve been through. I love you aside from all of that, and I always will. Will you marry me?”

Grantaire let out a choked laugh. “This isn’t just to get back at your parents, is it?”

“Believe me, I would have done that a long time ago if that were the case. But you _know_ it’s not.”

“Yeah, I do,” Grantaire said with a smile. He gave a dramatic sigh. “I GUESS I can be convinced to marry you, Apollo.”

“So is that a yes?” Enjolras asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you kidding? Of course it’s a yes!” Grantaire pulled Enjolras off his knees and kissed him with every ounce of love he had.

“Cosette might be pissed at us for stealing her thunder,” he murmured when they broke apart.

Enjolras shrugged. “We can have a long engagement period.”

“And you’re sure you want to do this?” Grantaire asked, a flicker of doubt appearing in his eyes as he looked at the beautiful Enjolras.

Enjolras responded with another deep kiss, one that did not stop even as someone from inside the house turned the lights off, leaving the happy couple alone in the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No disrespect to Aaron Tveit's parents. I'm sure they're perfectly lovely people. Anyway, that's the fic! The title and final chapter came from "The Origin of Love" by my favorite, Mika. Thank you for everyone who stuck with me this far. This was my first time writing for les mis and I am blown away by the responses I've gotten. Thanks again! Also, while I am planning the sequel, I've gotta be honest and say that it'll probably be a while. I'm going to try and write it during NaNoWriMo next November like I did with this one, and then get it uploaded sometime after that. For the last time, here's my [Spotify Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/4sbnzJlJ6p1QSY0Glp7mfF) <3


End file.
